The Untold Story
by Dulcedecorumest
Summary: My interpretation of what happened between Jason/Nicky before, during and after the Trilogy. This fic is purely the result of overdosing on great yet unfinished Bourne fic! R may change
1. Chapter 1

A/N: In **_BU_** Jason Bourne tells Dr Hirsch that he's spent 3 years not knowing who he is… so I'm just going to assume that **_BU_** took place in February 2005. I've also taken it that NP was JB's handler soon after the Neski assignment in 1999.

I also feel it is only fair for me to add that this fic was inspired by the great works I read by, **Red Burn**, **Stormin' Mormon**, **Random Little Writer**, **Teal Moon** (I'm in love with her fic, if you're reading this please update soon), **CrazyRodeoGirl**, **Fire Element 13**, **inuyasharbd**, **ghostlcards**, and** dresswithoutsleeves** to name a few. I must confess I have reviews written for all your stories but my internet access is sketchy so I write them at home and post them bit by bit when the WWW gods are behaving. Which is almost never.

**PART I - THE BEGINNING**

Nicolette Parsons stared at the white stick in uncomprehending shock. Okay, she understood that the two pink lines meant positive. They meant something in her body was positively in a state of being. What she could not understand how this moment was actually happening to her. Correction, she knew about the birds and the bees, what she didn't understand was how one night of drug induced euphoria and mind-blowing sex could come back to her haunt four months later in this way. In fact she was pretty sure that in all the possible ways she had thought that night would come back to haunt her, this was in none of her imagined scenarios. Proof that at the age of 21 years and 4 months she still had a lot to learn about life.

Okay so if nothing else this whole 'positive' thing established she was a little more naïve than she had realized but that didn't change the fact the 3rd pregnancy test she had taken today was telling her that in 5 months time she was going to pay for her night of sex, drugs and rock and roll with labor and waters breaking and contractions and crying and screaming… and a baby. She did not even want to think about what Conklin would do to her when he found out that not only was his top logistics technician and Paris handler pregnant but by his best asset too. Nicky fought and failed to suppress the frisson of fear that snaked down her spine. She was worrying about Conklin, but what about Bourne for fucks sakes? How the hell would that mass murdering super efficient 30 million dollar government weapon react? Granted that was not the way she had seen him on the night of her birthday… or the way she had viewed him since a few weeks before then but faced with this jarring reality her fear managed to distil the complexity of the man into nine unfriendly words. Great, this was not helping. What would help would be for her to get up off the very cold floor and out of the tiny Marseille hotel room. Her friends Jacques and Louisa were expecting her in St.-Raphael before sunset but she would be lucky if she made it there shortly after dark.

Rising gingerly Nicky picked up all three discarded pregnancy tests, the boxes and packaging they came in and shoved it all into a tiny yellow garbage bag, she was way past being grossed out by the idea of touching the plastic sticks which had her dried 'positive' urine on them. She made a face at herself in the mirror, before she set the garbage bag down on the counter and vigorously washed her hands. She felt like Lady Macbeth as she scrubbed at imaginary traces of urine, it was as if getting every last trace of urine off her hands would magically erase the entire predicament she was in. When she heard the words, "Out, out, damn spot" reverberating in her head she let out a harsh derisive snort and turning the water off wiped her hands on the seat of her jeans. Avoiding her reflection she picked up the offensive yellow bag and giving the bathroom one last cursory sweep, strode into the adjoining bedroom, picking up her hand bag and car keys off the side table. Without breaking her stride she walked out of the room and headed downstairs towards the main entrance, her car and temporary escape from the big black crow of bad news crouched over her head.

----------------------------xxx

Tuesday, 28 March 2000

Nicky shivered in her purple wool coat as she let herself out of the Paris safe house; compared to the toasty warm heating inside, the chilly climes of Paris in the grips of a North Sea-originating cold spell felt like rolling naked in a snow-drift after having spent hours in a hot tub. She tucked her blonde hair underneath a cream wool hat, hiked her purse straps higher up her shoulder then tucked her gloved hands under her armpits and with a hunched motion resolutely turned into the biting wind. With hurried steps she headed towards the Place de la Concorde where she was supposed to meet her new friend Louisa before they headed back to her apartment for a little pre-birthday rave night drinks.

Nicky rounded the corner, just in time to see Louisa step into a cab, picking up speed she called out for her friend, her hands frantically waving in the air but it was no use. She was too far away and in the rush hour traffic, nobody noticed the slender girl waving at the cab as it pulled away and joined the mêlée that was evening traffic in Paris.

Nicky threw her hands up in frustration and swore volubly, "Sallope putain, la puta madre, filho de puta, es una mierda non!"

"Nicolette Parsons, do you kiss your mother with that mouth," Jason Bourne chuckled behind her.

She whipped around, her heart thudding like a Mexican jumping bean in her chest. Jason's lips twisted into a cheeky grin, his blue eyes twinkling with amusement.

"Bourne! What are you- how long have you been tailing me?"

Jason shrugged his expression serious again although his eyes were still dancing, "I heard from a very reliable source that you wouldn't be able to make it for our appointment tomorrow morning so I took it upon myself to come and see you today instead."

Nicky frowned, "What source and why wouldn't I be able to make it for our appointment tomorrow? Who's spreading rumors about me? I know people think I'm too young but I'd never change an appointment without telling you, I'm a professional!"

Jason stifled a grin as he took her arm and led her down a side street, "Easy now Parsons, nobody's been spreading rumors about you okay, I overheard you and your cute redhead friend Louisa talking about going to a rave to celebrate you-know-who's big day making the big 2-1 so I thought I'd gift you with an early appointment so that you can sleep in tomorrow."

Nicky scowled fiercely, "You _overheard_ me and Louisa!? How the hell did you do that!? You know you might not realise this but you and I are on the same side and you have no right to eavesdrop on my private phone conversations, or stalk me or-"

"Louisa and I."

"_What!?_" Nicky dug her heels in but Jason continued to propel them down the street without breaking his stride.

"It's not 'me and Louisa' its Louisa and I. Come on Parsons."

Nicky was now gaping at Bourne in total shock, he was _teasing_ her. _He_ was teasing _her_, Nicolette Parsons, principal logistics technician (and junior handler since January 2000), like they were, well, friends! She blinked repetitively, she had to be dreaming or maybe it was a nightmare, but whatever it was, this couldn't possibly be real. She reached down with her left hand and pinched her thigh just to make sure. Biting back a yelp of pain she glanced back at Jason who was pushing open the door to a quaint and cosy-looking Brasserie. She bit her lip and stumbled a little when Jason released her arm and stopped in front of a plump and friendly Arab waitress.

"Bon soir monsieur, mademoiselle, ou-est-ce-que vous voulez vous assoir?"

Jason looked at Nicky who just stared back at him dumbly then with a small smile he indicated the corner table near the back of the restaurant. Nicky's heart foolishly starting doing an impression of a steel drum calypso solo as they were led to their table. When they were seated the waitress gave them some menus and took their drink orders as dictated by Jason. Nicky cautiously raised her eyes up to Jason's face but he was busy assessing the sight-lines and exits as well as sizing up the clientele and the patrons. The calypso beat in her chest died with a graceless clang. She initially thought he'd chosen the table for its cosy intimacy forgetting that he was the crème de la crème of assassins who worked for a black ops branch of the C.I. fucking A. Her infatuation with Bourne was going to kill her one way or another if she wasn't careful.

"Bourne what are we doing here?"

"You gotta eat, line your stomach for all the booze you're gonna drink… and I gotta eat too."

"What about your appointment? I thought you said the whole point of you being here was so that we wouldn't have to meet tomorrow morning… which by the way is against protocol and like every single rule in the handbook," Nicky leaned forward a frown marring her brow.

Jason leaned back in his seat, everything about his body language showing her not only was he relaxed but he was enjoying himself.

"You know Parsons I'm beginning to think you don't want me around."

Nicky's face flushed, "No it's not like that but the only times you've ever said anything to me that didn't have to do with a mission was last year before the physical part of your training started in New York and since I came to Paris there was January 1st when you wished me a Happy New Year and on Martin Luther King Jr Day."

Jason raised an eyebrow but didn't say anything more because their waitress was back with a bottle of Moët & Chandon in a bucket of ice and two champagne flutes. Nicky's eyebrows rocketed up into her hairline and she turned an inquisitive look on Jason. The bottle was opened and the cork's popping sound was deafening to Nicky's ears, it reminded her too much of a gunshot especially because of the man sitting across from her. The waitress poured champagne in both their glasses and taking her cue from Jason retreated. He waited for Nicky to pick up her glass then he raised his.

"To turning 21, finally being legal in the U.S. of A, saving the world one bad guy at a time and… to you," Jason said with an amused smile in his voice.

Nicky felt her lips stretching into a beatific smile despite her internal misgivings, "Just me?"

"Yeah just you," he said it thoughtfully.

Nicky blushed prettily and touched her glass with his before taking a sip of the champagne. The nerves making her pulse flutter erratically prompted her to down the remainder of the flute in one gulp. Jason noticed the pulse in her neck but seeing the color heighten in her cheeks he tactfully chose to turn his intense blue eyes away from her and sweep the room. Nicky unbuttoned her coat and shrugged it off, draping it around the back of her chair; she unravelled her scarf, risking a look at Jason. He was watching her intently and she got tangled up, he leaned forward and gently taking her hands in his, he pushed them away and removed the scarf. Nicky felt something inside her shift when she saw her cream silk scarf wrapped around his large tanned hand. Their waitress came back and asked if they were ready to order while she refilled Nicky's glass and topped up Jason's.

Nicky realized she hadn't even looked at the menu and looked up at Jason with a panicked expression; he gave her a reassuring smile.

"Le poulet scallop a la Princesse avec champignons pour la mademoiselle et le steack frites pour moi."

"Tres bien monsieur, ca sera pret en vingt minutes."

"Merci."

Jason looked at Nicky after the waitress left, "Relax Parsons it's your birthday, you only turn 21 once and believe it or not I am capable of being good company without there being talk of guns, targets, missions, etc."

Nicky squinted at him, the glass of champagne she'd drunk had already gone to her head, "Oh really?"

"Yeah really."

"Prove it."

"Prove it!? How exactly do you want me to prove it?"

"I don't know but so far you sound like the middle-aged Dad at a teen party trying to convince the kids that he used to be cool."

"Ohhh… how old do you think I am? Wait a minute you know how old I am!"

"That's not the point! You're like… always so stoic and/or intense… it's like you're the Terminator."

"The Terminator? First one or second one?"

Nicky grew pale; she could not remember which one Arnold played the good guy in, "First one."

Jason's face darkened and Nicky tensed, "Second one? Second one!"

Jason grinned, "Had you going for a second there Parsons."

She buried her face in her hands, her platinum blonde streaks hiding her face, then realizing how immature that was she jerked her head up and picking up her champagne glass took a healthy sip.

"See, you're totally being like an old Dad… tormenting me like that, why couldn't you just assume I meant the one where Arnold's the good guy?"

Jason shrugged, "I like to see you blush, you're usually so clinical in our dealings, it's become a fascination of mine to see-"

"Clinical! I'm not clinical, I am a professional! And I wasn't clinical at our orientation retreat last year… it's just that when I got here Conklin said not to be personal but to be 110% professional," Nicky protested as she finished off her second glass of champagne.

"A very young professional."

"I'm 21!"

"As of today."

"Okay _Dad_, if you wanna prove that you're still young enough to be hip, tell me what your favourite music is," Nicky challenged in an animated voice.

The champagne was definitely getting to her; she was much livelier than she had been when they came in.

"Rap and alternative rock."

"_You_ like rap?"

"Yeah, I was a teen when that scene really exploded!"

"Oh yeah like who?"

"Run DMC, Snoop Dogg, Tupac, NWA, Notorious BIG, Naughty By Nature, A Tribe Called Quest-"

"Oh my God you sound like such a white boy."

"I am white!"

"Whatever… tell me about your alternative bands, and you can't say Nirvana."

"Hmm… let's see, Pearl Jam, Foo Fighters, Soul Asylum, The Offspring, Silverchair, Matchbox 20, Red Hot Chilli Peppers, Nirvana…"

"I said you couldn't say Nirvana."

"Is that all you can say in response to my impressive catalogue of fine music?"

"Okay fine, I'm impressed that once upon a time you were young but you haven't told me about any music that's actually hip and popular these days that you like."

"I like '_The Thong Song_'."

Nicky burst out laughing, "Of course you do, you're a guy!"

Jason chuckled along with her, finding his heart melting at the sight of Nicky underneath the soft lighting being so free. It made him feel good that he had brought that humor to the surface, that he was still capable of making somebody feel joy of some kind and free to show it and share it. Since he'd left the Treadstone training facility in New York it was like he had been frozen inside himself, unable to react or relate to anything in a way that wasn't ingrained in him through his training.

"I also like Eminem and please don't laugh but Whitney Houston's new album."

Nicky guffawed with laughter, "JB likes Whitney Houston's new album? You've got to be kidding me."

"JB!?"

Nicky wiped the tears off her cheeks and took a sip of Jason's champagne, "You know, your initials, we're in public and I don't wanna say it."

He nodded in understanding, swiping his glass back from her, "Uh huh, don't think I didn't see that."

"Hey! It's my birthday!"

"So," Jason challenged taking a sip of his champagne.

Nicky rolled her eyes and leaned forward conspiratorially, "I'm gonna ask you to sing me a song from Whitney's album later just to test you."

"Okay, Parsons, whatever you want," he said indulgently.

Her eyes lit up evilly.

"Within reason," he warned.

She gave him a knowing look, "Ok Dad! I'll just get you to sing the song, I won't ask you to dance…wouldn't want you to bust a hip!"

Jason tried to give her a stern look but it fell apart and they both burst out laughing, trying desperately to keep their voices down.

-------------------------xxx

"Okay, JB, I am totally wasted and I haven't asked you any of the questions I am supposed to be asking you tomorrow."

"I know you are, I think its-"

"Totally inappropriate and should Canker Worm see us or hear about this he'll have my head on a plate," Nicky said sombrely.

Jason's smile died on his face and he regarded her just as seriously, "I was going to say I thought it was cute. And as for 'Canker Worm' finding out, I would not let that happen."

Nicky ran a hand through her chic French bob, "We're in a Brasserie less than ten minutes away from La Place de la Concorde… I think the chances of someone accidentally spotting us having dinner, drinking and generally being merrier than I have been since joining the Team are higher than any situation assessment plans you may have devised."

"Why do you think we're sitting in a corner with all these bodies and this huge flower arrangement blocking us?"

Nicky looked around, taking note of what Jason had pointed out.

She cocked her head to the left and tapped her right hand lightly on the table top, "Why are you being so nice to me? Is this some kind of test?"

"Test?"

"If it is just tell me I've probably failed it and if I'm gonna be sent home, I'd really appreciate it if you just let me enjoy the rest of my birthday-"

"Nicky why would you think you're gonna be sent home? That's -"

"What Conklin said would happen if I screwed up… Oh God, you're being so nice to me out of the blue and you're confusing me. I can't take this right now!"

She made to get up, tears springing in her eyes. Jason reached out and grabbed her arm, anchoring her to the table.

"This isn't a test Nicky, and I'm not trying to ruin your birthday."

"So then why are you here with me if you haven't been sent?" Her brown eyes were wide open and limpid pools of vulnerability.

"I noticed how sad you've been these past few weeks and I have to admit I overheard you begging Canker Worm to give you this coming weekend off and he said no."

"It wasn't begging _exactly_, more like asking nicely," Nicky interjected with a little of her earlier sass.

"Okay, I heard you asking Canker Worm _very nicely_ to give you time off and he said no. I remembered from orientation that it was your birthday today… So I thought, I- well I thought it would be- ah-"

Nicky covered Jason's hand with hers and he looked down distracted by the sensation of her warm palm on his skin.

"I've never thought about it before because you're usually so intimidating but sometimes instead of the big picture, we all just need life to be about the little moments and… for those moments to be real. Right?"

Jason looked up into her eyes, surprised by the wisdom behind her words. Something in his face must have shown because she shrugged self-deprecatingly.

"I may be into N'Sync and Britney Spears but I didn't get this job based on my CD collection."

Jason grinned, "You definitely didn't get it based on your CD collection, if you ask me that would have been a reason not to hire you."

She whacked him playfully on the arm as the waitress brought them their coffees.

-----------xxx

Nicky and Jason walked out of the Brasserie and were heading for her apartment.

"Wait there may not even be any point in going to my place, I'm pretty sure Louisa's already gone to the rave and if not the one we were planning then a different one, that girl is crazy."

Jason was busy assessing the security situation the Tuileries Gardens they were walking through, "Why don't you call her?"

Nicky gave a Gallic shrug, "She doesn't have a cell phone."

Jason nodded in understanding and continued to look around him, his mind busily looking for people or things that looked out of place and plotting exit strategies should someone threaten them or should someone spot them together.

"So then why don't we just go to any rave we feel like?"

Nicky stumbled, he pulled her up and they stopped walking, facing each other.

"You feel like going to a rave?"

"Yeah, why not? Its your birthday after all."

"Okaaay but you're JB, you don't do raves."

"I don't? Says who?"

"What kind of rave music do you like?"

"Doesn't matter it all sounds the same after a while, but I do like that 'Blue' song by those Italian guys."

Nicky stared at him like she'd never seen him before. Jason's blue eyes danced with merriment.

"Right… so when exactly are we supposed to do the whole interview thing?"

"Interview thing?"

Nicky raised her eyebrows sceptically, "Jason if we go to a rave tonight I will barely be able to function tomorrow morning and-"

"Nicky, I'll take care of it. Don't worry, tonight's about you, okay, so do you wanna go to a rave or not?"

She hesitated momentarily still suspicious that this was all a big joke at her expense, and then she shrugged, "Okay."

They started to walk again, and this time she tucked her arm into his. Jason started initially in surprise but he didn't pull his arm away. They walked contentedly until they found a cab and went to a massive rave in an abandoned warehouse in Neuilly.

On the way there, Nicky got Jason to sing, '_Heartbreak Hotel_' for her just to prove he could. They tumbled out of the cab laughing hysterically all the way up until the rave entrance at the driver's harangued expression.

-------------------xxx

Six hours after they left the restaurant Nicky and Jason were making out in an alley along the Seine. Nicky had bought two tabs of Ecstasy in the ladies room back at the rave and had dropped them both. It was only the second time in her life that she had done something so reckless but she figured that Ecstasy was less likely to get her in trouble compared to the fact that she was out at a rave with Jason-frigging-I'll-kill-you-with-my-pinkie-toe-or-whatever's-handy-Bourne.

When she had rejoined him on the cramped and sweaty dance floor, his eyes had almost immediately noted the change in her. When the drugs started to take effect she had challenged Jason with her eyes to say something critical but he'd given her an unreadable look before guiding her to a less crowded area where she could dance. The drugs had taken effect and Nicky had spent the majority of their time in the warehouse, pressed up against Jason. He hadn't seemed to have minded.

"Oh my God, I feel like I'm made of diamonds and magic!" Nicky panted into Jason's ear as his hands ran down her sides then round to her butt where he lifted her up and she reflexively wrapped her legs around his waist.

"Shh… Chérie we have to be quiet as church mice," Jason whispered in her ear.

Nicky shivered pleasurably as his breath sent myriad swirling sensations tingling in her body. She moaned sultrily in his ear as he divested her of her jeans and panties, one minute they were kissing and caressing and the next they were bumping and grinding against the alley wall.

He hungrily drank in all of Nicky's cries, feeling as if by swallowing her sounds of pleasure he could hold in some of that innocence and goodness she radiated that he himself could no longer enjoy as a right. Jason morbidly mused that he was like a vampire, feeding off of Nicky's innocence and drug induced feverish arousal like it was blood because he lived in shadows and darkness now. This was the choice David Webb had made; it had seemed much easier then than it did today.

He felt himself lose total control as Nicky experienced a multiple orgasm, her inner muscles clenching and unclenching around him. He knew that she would pay heavily for the onslaught on her slender frame but he was too intoxicated by her and Nicky was too out of it to even think about it as she launched herself at him and pushing him back on the ground, straddled him in the cold Paris alley and rode them both to another spectacular climax.

-----XXX

At the crack of dawn they walked through the Quartier Latin taking in the sights and sounds of Paris waking up in the chilly March air. Jason's arm was slung around Nicky's shoulders and she had an arm wrapped around his waist. Mainly for support but also because she liked Jason's solid, muscular warmth.

"I'm crashing."

"About time, I don't think I can go another round in this cold."

"Tell me again why we didn't like, go back to my place?"

"Like go back to your place? Umm… mainly because someone would have made us. And we didn't have all the necessary fake ID necessary to book a hotel room."

"But you're JB you plan for everything."

"Well, Nicky this time I didn't… I thought I'd take you out to dinner then send you off on your way, I did not think we'd spend the night together," he said wryly.

"So what changed your mind?"

"You did."

"How?"

"I don't know, but you just did," he explained patiently.

Nicky screwed up her face as she thought about this, her brain felt like it was wrapped in cotton wool. Jason watched her intently for a few seconds, steering her onto the Blvd. du Momtparnasse and towards a side street that lead to her apartment.

"So when I get back up there, last night will be-"

"Relegated to the World of Never to Be Mentioned Again."

"I guess Never to Be Mentioned is better than Never Happened. I couldn't bear it if last night turned out to be fake, that was the best birthday I've ever had."

Jason was silent and Nicky stole expectant glances, he wrestled with himself unsure of what to say. Instinctively he erred on the side of caution.

"Nicky, you're new to this but if word of yesterday gets out or there are any suspicions-"

She stiffened, "I really hate it when you throw my age or my very short tenure in the Agency in my face."

Jason stopped and looked at her gently, "I'm sorry I didn't mean to make you feel like I was patronising you but we're black ops which means loose ends are tied off permanently-"

Nicky wrenched her arm from his and held up her hand, "I seriously doubt Conklin would order a hit on me or you because of last night but yeah I get it okay… and it's not a big deal."

Jason watched her as she hunched her shoulders and squinted up at him nervously, "You're right I still have a lot to learn, and I really hope I won't learn the majority of my lessons the hard way. And by hard way I mean by getting on Canker- Conklin's bad side."

She had dirt, twigs and some grass in her hair and on her purple coat. Jason wanted to reach out and brush them off then envelop her in tight hug but with the lightening of the sky the usual barriers and divisions between them seemed to be racing back up, the urge remained just an impulse as he hastily suppressed it.

"I hope so too," he said finally. He silenced the warning bells that rang in his head at the thought of the potential consequences of anyone in Treadstone getting on Conklin's bad side.

Nicky's youthful face reflected her exhaustion and the smudges of dirt on her face from their hour and a half in the alley and the park only served to make her look even younger.

"I'm gonna go home now… embark on the 'walk of shame' to my apartment. It's pretty much daylight and I'll be fine… I'll see you at the safe house at 11 and thank you for the birthday gift," she called out over her shoulder as she speed-walked away from him.

Jason started in her direction then stopped himself knowing she was right to run away from him and also since her apartment was under Conklin's surveillance escorting her home would definitely not bode well for either one of them. With a regretful sigh, he watched Nicky until she turned around the corner to get into her building. He felt a small burst of pride when she did not look back at him directly but glanced over her shoulder and around her taking note of her surroundings. With one last lingering glance at the now empty street he ducked his head down and made his own way home.

-------------------------xxx

Nicky sat on the beach and watched her friends Louisa and Jacques dive off the yacht moored away a few miles out to sea. Much to their disappointment Nicky had refused to join them in their midnight swim. She had decried a hangover knowing full well that her nausea, dizziness and impending headache had nothing to do with recently consumed alcohol and everything to do with popping two pills of Ecstasy and being drunk on the idea that Jason Bourne was not only giving her, Nicolette Parsons, the time of day but that he was actually enjoying being in her company. So much so that he forgot some of the programmed Treadstone behaviours that made it much easier for her to maintain a professional distance with her assets.

She thought back to the night of her birthday and felt a wave of nausea bubble up inside her. So she turned her thoughts back to the meeting with Jason at the safe house the morning after.

She had arrived a half hour early for their appointment; Conklin had already been and gone. Leaving her an irate note asking her why the appointment had been moved from 9 am to 11 and next time Nicky should stick to the protocols.

With a sigh Nicky had started prepping for her appointment with Jason, fighting waves of nausea and the after effects of her Ecstasy high as well as the 30 minutes she had spent in the alley by the Seine before they had snuck into the Jardin Des Plantes and spent another hour there, screwing each others' brains out. How had she not felt the rough edges of the wall, cobble stone and later on the park bench on her knees, elbows, back and ass?

And the sex, well, that had been amazing. She was pretty sure it was because Jason was apparently not just a professional hit man but if that didn't work out he could just become a very successful male escort. She remembered catching him and the mixed-race female asset every guy at Treadstone orientation retreat had wanted to screw en flagrante delicto their on the second day there. The woman, Lisa, had seen Nicky over Jason's shoulder and continued moaning and groaning like Nicky wasn't there. She remembered Jason's naked buttocks clenching and relaxing as he furiously pumped into Lisa. Embarrassed she had fled the scene and never mentioned it to anyone. The image of his sweat glistened back and butt moving against Lisa had stayed with her though. And last night she remembered the way his muscles as rippled violently with the force of his climax, droplets of sweat showering her face. She blushed furiously at that thought and forced herself to downplay that part of the night, resolving to attribute it to the E.

When Jason had arrived Nicky had avoided meeting his eyes, choosing to conduct the question and answer part of the session in the most austere conditions she could manage by mere rearrangement of the furniture. Jason had been Jason, not the guy she had spent the night on the town or the future asset she had occasionally talked to at orientation but Jason the Treadstone asset with an incredible amount of self-restraint.

"Okay, I have to just check your vitals and then you're free to go," Nicky said coldly.

Jason didn't respond to her indirect request verbally, silently he rolled up his shirt-sleeve so she could take his blood pressure. She could not help it; his ease at slipping back to being a polite stranger irked her. She had grown up in a house full of polite detachment and cold dismissal. How dare he just ignore her like that, she deserved some kind of recognition, Conklin be damned.

Nicky conducted the medical part of her assessment in silence and when she was done annotating the results she had looked up at him and forgetting her irritation, smiled at him gingerly.

"We're done here."

Jason had barely nodded then stood up, shrugging on his coat and leaving. With a heavy heart Nicky had packed up all her gear and left the safe house, whatever Treadstone conditioning had been forgotten yesterday had reasserted itself at some point after Nicky walked away from him in the alley. She went back to her apartment, took her second blistering hot shower of the day and went to sleep.

---------------xxx

"Celina! Allons-y on y va!" Louisa hollered as her and Jacques ran onto the beach.

Nicky picked up her shoes and purse and followed them back to their hotel. She doubted she would get a wink of sleep tonight but it was almost 1 a.m. she would have to give it a shot.

------------xxx

One week after her trip to St.-Raphael, Nicky ran out of Dallas International Airport into the waiting arms of a tall, muscular, man.

"Ah Juliet! How I've missed your fair an' funny looking baby face," he drawled in his slow, rich baritone.

"Shut up Lee, I'm 21 now, and I am allowed to drink in any bar I choose in the US!"

"Uh huh, you still have a baby face an' it is still funny lookin'," Lee replied matter-of-factly.

Nicky punched his arm as hard as she could and Lee winced.

"Where in Sam-hell are your bags," Lee asked as he looked around her tiny frame.

Nicky pointed at the trolley she had left standing by the wayside. Lee chuckled as he went and piloted her luggage, gesturing with his chin for her to head toward his cherry red Dodge Viper waiting in the VIP parking.

Nicky sat in the passenger seat as Lee loaded her bags in the truck unable to repress the happy smile on her face. William (Lee) Charles Anderson III was her best friend growing up; his parents' ranch was next door to Nicky's paternal grandmother, Margaret's just outside of Marshall, Texas. Joanne and Derek Parsons had been too busy having drunken fights, affairs and spending their respective inheritances to raise Nicky so she had spent most of her childhood and early teens living with Margaret. Lee was six years older than her but a couple of expulsions on his part and Nicky's academic excellence had allowed her to skip a few grades here and there, had put him only three grades above her. He called her Juliet after the character in Romeo and Juliet and she called him Romeo, it was their own private joke and it was now over 10 years old.

With his wavy honey blonde hair, hazel green eyes, dimpled perfect smile combined with his 6ft frame, Lee was always the handsomest, most athletic, sexiest, smartest and generally coolest guy in school. He literally had been the school Romeo/ Casanova.

"Okay Sugar Pie, you're supposed to be stayin' here for two weeks why on God's green Earth have you brought half a plane load of luggage? You've never been an obsessive packer before, what have those Frogs done to you," Lee asked as he slid into the driver's seat.

His natural charm and easy-going attitude had always coaxed Nicky out of her shell when they were growing up and had also enabled Nicky to go through most of her school life without too much negative attention directed at her.

Nicky grinned, "You can't call them Frogs."

"Oh please! Don't pull that PC crap with me Nicolette Parsons… I remember Grandma Margaret had a whole repertoire of un-PC names for everybody but black people which she called 'coloureds'!"

Nicky rolled her eyes, "Shut up and drive Cowboy, it's a long way to Marshall and I just wanna enjoy the music and hear all about the crazy adventures of General Lee and his trusty sidekick Life."

Lee chuckled at this and opening the sun-roof and cranking up the volume, whooped as they took a sharp corner.

--------------xxx

"A baby huh?"

They were sitting on their favourite hill-top on the Parsons Ranch, with a panoramic view of the babbling brook, Spanish moss and the ranch horses grazing in the distance. Nicky sighed, if Lee hadn't asked her that question she could have been 12 years old again hoping Lee would kiss her. That was before he had told her he was gay.

"Yeah, a baby."

"This is gonna be amazin'."

"Easy for you to say, you don't have to do it."

"Well not the pushin' an' vagina-dilatin'-to-like-a-mile part but I'll be right there beside you screamin', cryin' an' sweatin' until the little angel comes out to meet an' greet us!"

"Lee, be serious, it's a baby, a real-life miniature human being that will be dependent on me for everything."

"Us."

"What?"

"You said dependent on 'me', you meant dependent on us… Come on Nicolette, you work for the CIA for a little over a year an' move to Frog Land an' you develop amnesia 'bout the fact that you an' I are a team? You're fixin' for a fight there Girl."

Nicky leaned her head against Lee's shoulder; he put his arm around her and rested his chin on top of her head.

"I can't tell the father about this… and you can't ask me about him."

"Oh Nicolette you didn't fall for a black ops guy did ya?"

She stiffened and he sighed.

"Nicky those guys are completely unsuitable an' unstable. They are not _programmed_ to form lastin' relationships with anythin' other than the Agency, guns an' orders!"

"I didn't fall for him exactly, it was just one night…"

"One night too many."

"You're not helping."

"I know, but I'm mad that I can't even go an' pummel the guy."

Nicky felt a giggle rise in her chest at the idea of Lee attacking Jason, then she realised that strong and skilled in martial arts as Lee was he still would be no match for Bourne and would end up either comatose or dead.

"You _definitely_ can't."

A shiver ran up and down her arms giving her goose bumps.

"Lee, no one can know I'm having this baby."

"Not even Troy?"

Troy was Lee's Cuban-Creole partner of 5 years and he was the third addition to their little family, as an outcast in his own family he had bonded easily with Nicky whose family after the death of Margaret Parsons had pretty much ignored her.

"Of course not Troy, I said no one, and Troy's not no-one."

"I just had to make sure, I understand more than you think I do 'bout the sensitivity of your new job," Lee said gravely.

Nicky looked at him sadly and nodded, "I guess it's just as well that Grandma Margaret isn't around to see her beloved Nicole give birth to an illegitimate love child."

Lee's eyebrows went up, Nicky hastily added, "It's just a figure of speech!"

"Unh huh, so you gonna give the angel up for adoption then?"

Nicky tensed, "I don't know…That's so permanent."

Lee nodded with approval, "Troy an' I could adopt him."

Nicky whipped her head round in shock, "You'd do that?"

"Of course! You're not gonna work for the Agency forever, I mean you could even quit now an' move into this empty ranch house."

"No I can't quit now, if I quit now… things could get complicated."

"Complicated how?"

Nicky thought of Jason, his warnings to her that night of her birthday, Conklin, his thinly veiled threats in respect to breaking his rules, both of their most likely reactions to her news and the likelihood that Conklin would want to take the baby away from her because of what its existence would mean for the mental well-being of his most precious asset. Without realizing it she started to cry.

"Oh Baby don't cry," Lee hugged her to him.

This only made her cry harder, sobs wracking her body as she clung to him desolately.

"If the Agency finds out about this they'll take the baby away, oh my God Lee h-h-h- how-how could I have been s-s-s-so stupid as to get myself in this position!?"

Lee's heart skipped a beat in fear at her words but he hid it well, holding her tightly and rocking her gently.

"These things happen Baby Doll, don't worry we'll take care of this… how much time-off did you say they gave you?"

"S-s-six m-m-m-months," Nicky stammered.

"Okay great, so if you're 4 months along you've got a little less than 5 months to go… we'll go to Cuba. Nobody will find you there… I'll have to work but you an' Troy can stay there… you can have the baby, spend a little time with him or her before you go back to France."

"I'm supposed to be writing up my Masters proposal over the next 6 months."

"Don't even try an' tell me that just because you're pregnant you won't be able to sit at a computer an' type up a bunch of BS for your proposal!"

Nicky let out a watery laugh and pressed a soft kiss on Lee's cheek.

"Great now that that's sorted let's go get you an' Junior some fresh baked cornbread with a hot spoonful of black eyed peas on top!"

"Oooh only if the cornbread is dripping with maple syrup and like, a nice chunk of freshly churned butter," Nicky added licking her lips.

Lee made a face, "Maple syrup, cornbread an' black eyed peas together's just nasty."

Nicky shook her head, "It's not to me, in fact it's the only thing I feel like eating today."

Lee got up and helped her stand, "Man this kid's gonna make sure we vomit together every day too huh?"

Nicky stuck her tongue out at him and sprinted down the hill, "Last one to Etta-Mae's kitchen's gotta walk Margaret's horses in the morning!"

Lee watched her run and followed at a sedate pace, the little minx knew that he wouldn't let her lose now that he knew she was pregnant.

-------------------xxxx

31st October 2000

Cuba

Nicky wiggled her freshly painted plum toenails in the wake of the errant breeze and sighed, resting her hands on her protruding belly.

"Okay now listen Junior, I'm missing out on Halloween tonight and I don't care cause they don't celebrate it in Cuba… but I definitely don't plan on missing out on Christmas or New Year's Eve festivities, alright!?"

"Scolding Junior for making you look like you swallowed a boat of fleeing immigrants again, Mami?"

Nicky scowled at Troy, "What do you mean '_again'_?"

Troy put one hand on his hips and snapped his neck, while he waved his other hand at her, "I mean you keep telling la niño that he's stopping you from doin' this an' that! What you think I mean?

"Oh, I thought you meant I looked like I had swallowed more than one boat of fleeing immigrants."

Troy sucked his teeth at her and sashayed over to her feet to see if the varnish was dry. Nicky narrowed her eyes at him as his perfectly toned butt loomed in her face.

"How come you always seem to wear teeny tiny shorts nowadays? Are you rubbing it in my face that I can't?"

"Ay Tia, listen, today you being a real loca chick, this is out of hand non?" Troy said crossly sashaying off the veranda and back into the house.

Nicky picked up her empty coconut shell and tossed it out onto the beach in a fit of frustration. Troy had a point, she had been crabby all day, finding fault or taking umbrage in everything anyone said or did or didn't say or do.

The last 3 months had been one never-ending rollercoaster ride of incredible highs and dizzying lows. Within two weeks of settling in Cuba her belly had ballooned in line with the number of months along she was. She could spend two-three weeks happy, enjoying the pregnancy, the lazy days, satisfying her cravings, pretending to work on her Masters proposal, exploring Cuba and just having a good time with Troy. Then she could go through 3 consecutive days where she was depressed by the changes being wrought on her body, depressed by the thought of her baby growing up not only without his/her (Nicky and Lee were convinced it was a he) real father but most likely without her either. Depressed by the thought of going back to living in Paris like nothing had ever happened to her these last few months just like she had gone back to acting like she did not know Bourne was capable of humor and care and affection after their first meeting at the Paris safe house last year and then again the morning after her birthday and every day since. Damn Jason Bourne and his easy going demeanor and bottles of Moet, this was all his fault!

"Que fierda! Filho de puta, why did you throw your shell out there!?"

"Ay Dios Mio, Troy you're _really_ pissing me off!"

"_I'm_ pissing _you _off?!"

"Put on a proper shirt you look like a Cuban-Creole Hank Azaria in the _'Birdcage'_ movie like that!"

"Vale, I am so happy Cariño gets here in the next hour you are too much today!"

"His name is Lee not Cariño!"

"Actually it's William but to me is Cariño. And he is mine so I can call him whatever I like!"

"No you can't, I've known him much longer than your so-called great gay love affair, and his name's Lee," Nicky started to cry, the last words barely audible as she bawled her eyes out.

Troy threw his hands up in frustration and went back inside; he came back out with a bottle of Red Stripe beer and opening the top with his teeth he set it down next to Nicky with a thud.

"Stop crying, you can have your cervesa now," Troy cajoled.

Nicky gulped down the last few sobs and wiped her tears with the back of her hand looking at Troy unabashedly; she swiped the bottle off the table and took a healthy sip. Troy sat in the wicker chair next to hers and let her gather herself. A few minutes later she reached out her hand and took his.

"I'm sorry," she apologized with her heart in her eyes.

Troy's mouth was set in a grim line but after a few seconds he relented and squeezed her hand back, "Me too… you were so normale before Junior now you are like the squeaking mouse."

Nicky's brow furrowed in puzzlement, "Squeaking mouse?"

"Yeah like in Shakespeare, something like the 'Turning of the Screw'?"

"Oh you mean a shrew! It's the '_Taming of the Shrew'_."

Troy nodded sarcastically, "Ay, si, si."

Nicky bit back a chortle, "Oh Troy, te amo, I really do."

Troy finally smiled at her, his handsome features lighting up, "I know, I love me too."

She squeezed his hand as they laughed together.

"It's gonna be alright huh? Lee and I will take care of Junior, and you will visit him and us until you leave that horrible job of yours and our poco familia will be complete again," Troy said comfortingly.

What made both Troy and Lee put up with her sour moods was the fact that they understood the gnawing fear and anger Nicky felt knowing she would not be able to keep her baby with her. As well as what could happen should anybody in the CIA ever find out that she had had the baby in the first place.

Nicky felt a fresh wave of tears spring up and she blinked them away, "I really hope so Troy."

"Que sera, sera Tia, it will happen no matter how much the CIA teach you to be afraid to want and have something of your own that is good."

Nicky took another big sip of her almost depleted beer and let the bubbles fizz down her throat. Troy only let her drink a maximum of two beers on any given day so she savored the beverage like she would time with a lover. The local midwife who had been plying her trade for over 40 years had told them that she always recommended expectant mothers drink a moderate amount of beers when the mood struck them. The beer helped in stimulating milk production she claimed and also to balance out the hormonal mood swings.

"Okay, I go change into a real camisa now, Lee arrives in 20 minutes so go wash your face, you look like-"

"Don't even bother finishing that sentence," Nicky warned as she downed the remainder of her beer then made to get up.

Troy leaned forward and helped her stand, "Si, si, Mad Cow, now go fix your face!"

He smacked her butt smartly as she headed indoors, Nicky yelped in protest but kept walking. Lee was coming, since Troy was driving her crazy she couldn't wait for him to get here.

------------------xxx

Nicky stared up at the ceiling and surmised that she must be in shock. She had been very naughty tonight, drinking four warm beers in an attempt to drown out the voice in her head that was insidiously suggesting that Jason Bourne should be here; suffering her hormonal mood swings and temper tantrums with her. The voice that was making her feel very bitter and conflicted about this baby. This same voice was also mocking her for wimping out and not telling Jason about her condition and making her doubt her convictions that Jason would not want anything to do with either her or her baby and that his loyalty to Conklin and Treadstone would supercede any loyalty he may feel towards them and he would turn her in to Conklin himself.

Drunk and deciding that she needed just one more drink to go to sleep Nicky had tiptoed out of her bedroom and crept down the stairs, halfway down she lost her footing and fell down the remaining 12 steps. There was a metaphor there but a sharp knife-like pain ripped through Nicky's lower back effectively bringing her musings to an abrupt end.

"Nicky! Jesus Christ, Troy get the car," Lee called out as he turned on the lights and ran down the steps.

Nicky reached out for Lee's hand and held on tightly as the pain lacerated through her. Ripples of less excruciating pain worked their way up her thighs and seemed to center on her lower back. She cried out this time just as a warm gush of water rushed down her legs.

"Fuck! Troy!! Her waters broke!" Lee called out frantically.

Nicky felt tears of pain prick her eyes as Lee lifted her shoulders up so her head could rest on his lap. He started to search her body for broken bones, finding none he gave Nicky an exasperated look.

"What were you doing?"

"I thought I heard an intruder."

"Nicolette you must think my handsome mug was born yesterday."

Nicky made a face, "Okay fine, I was going to get myself another beer… I couldn't sleep!"

Lee gave her a disapproving look, "From the smell of your breath I think you had enough beers. Can you stand up?"

Nicky nodded, "I think so, but you're gonna have to help me up 'cause I don't wanna slip in this mess."

Lee got up and then helped her stand, Nicky made a disgusted face when her feet squelched in the recently expelled contents of her body. Lee led her to the downstairs bathroom and at Nicky's insistence stripped her off her sodden gown and gave her a quick wash using the showerhead. Troy having made a quick assessment of the situation ran upstairs and got Nicky a clean night gown. When he brought it down she practically screamed that she wanted to wear a real dress and she wouldn't be caught dead delivering her baby in a Victorian-looking cast-off. Ten minutes later, Nicky (wearing a forest green V-neck empire-waisted silk dress), Lee and Troy got into their beat-up Jeep and drove to the main clinic in town.

By 8 am on the 11th of November, Tristan Anderson, with dark blue-green eyes and black hair, weighing 4½ pounds was born via an emergency C-section. At 7½ months he was premature but a thorough check showed that his organs had all fully developed, Lee and Troy however, gave the doctor permission to put the baby in an incubator for the next two weeks to be on the safe side. When Nicky awoke her voice was hoarse from screaming in pain and cursing Jason volubly and fervently. She huskily agreed with their decision and pumped breast-milk for the nurses to feed the baby along with his special formula. After the first three days the doctor gave Nicky permission to hold the baby and Lee and Troy taped the whole scene, as Nicky cried tears of love and joy at the feel of her son in her arms.

On the 25th of November, Nicky lay in her hospital bed breastfeeding her son and gazing down at his soft downy black hair.

"Well Junior, what do you think of the nurses' name for you? David… after David who fought the gigantic Goliath in the Bible."

The baby suckled hungrily, a tiny fist curled against her breast, "Well I like it, Tristan _David_ Anderson."

Lee walked into the room and bestowed a kiss on her head, running a finger down Tristan's head.

"I like it too, you 'bout ready to go Mamacita?"

"Yeah, I am, I've only got two months left with you guys and I want to be able to look back and know that I managed to harass and annoy Troy as much as humanly possible before I went back to Paris."

Lee chuckled at this, sitting down next to her on the hospital bed, Nicky lay back resting her head on his shoulder as Tristan continued to feed. They sat there in compatible silence for a long time, Tristan fell asleep, her nipple slipping out of his tiny mouth.

"Penny for your thoughts," Lee prompted gently.

"I'm wondering if giving Tristan your last name and lying on his birth certificate will protect him and you enough."

"That's just the first layer Snookums, I got some contacts from the NSA who have collated a whole lot of evidence and host of pictures, the latest ones show you havin' fun at Grandma Margaret's ranch in a two-piece bathin' suit just last week. Thereby placin' you nowhere near Cuba an' this here baby."

Nicky tilted her head up to look at him and kissed him on the cheek, "Thank you Lee."

"No problem, now let me get your discharge papers finalized an' get our precious treasure the hell on out of here!"

Nicky watched him leave with a troubled heart, she really hoped that their precautions turned out to be nothing more than paranoia and nothing bad happened to any of them. Especially her darling little boy whom she knew she loved more than anything on Earth the second she laid eyes on him.

----------xxx

23 January 2001

Nicky stood in what had been her bedroom for the last 6 months since Troy and her had moved into the 200-year old house at the end of July last year. This was her last morning here; in a few hours she would be boarding a plane to Caracas, Venezuela then connecting to Barbados before flying to Florida. Once upon American soil she would drive up to Tallahassee then board a flight to New York City, in order to submit her Masters Proposal.

Studying her naked reflection in the mirror she concluded that she looked pretty much the same as she had before, except her hips had grown a little wider, her breasts had shrank back to their B-cup status (much to Lee and hers' chagrin). The scar from her C-section was almost completely indiscernible; the doctor had been given specific instructions by Troy to use his budding plastic surgery skills to make sure nobody would know she'd had the procedure unless they conducted a thorough and highly suspicious medical check of her person. There were no stretch marks on her abdomen and only a few on her hips because Troy had religiously massaged cocoa butter and coconut oil into her skin every morning and every night of her pregnancy and done the same after as well.

Lee with his black belt in Jujitsu had given her an excruciating exercise routine to adhere to after her stitches had healed, so that by New Year's Eve Nicky had shed all her pregnancy weight and was actually more toned than she had been before-hand. Her hair which was naturally a rich glossy auburn had grown incredibly long during her pregnancy, Troy had periodically trimmed all the blonde dyed bits off, and it was with great regret that she had let Troy cut and dye it blonde again after Tristan was born. All three of them had agreed it was the best thing to do seeing as Nicky was to go back to Paris and pick up her job and life like nothing more incredible than working on her Masters Proposal had happened to her over the past 6 months.

Nicky took a deep breath and looked into her eyes in the mirror; they were the only thing that had irrevocably changed in her view. Gone was that naïve and innocent vulnerability that only through its loss, Nicky realised had been there in the first place. In its place without really being aware of it, Nicky had developed a mysterious unreadable look. Only to her the look was not unreadable or mysterious, it was carefully controlled fear and grief for what she was going to have to do every day of her life in the foreseeable future. Lie about the existence of the most precious person in the world to her. As if on cue, Tristan gurgled in his bassinet. Nicky pulled on some underwear, a tank top and jean shorts then padded over to lift the baby up.

"Hello handsome! Momma's so glad you're up, we don't have much time left together and I really, really wanted to spend it with you," she cooed to the baby.

Tristan opened his eyes and smiled, it made Nicky's heart melt and tears choke her throat at the same time. How was she going to leave him? How could she? What kind of a mother did that to her child?

"Is that my little Prince looking for his Tio Troy?"

Nicky turned around as Troy swept in the room, the baby monitor tucked in his tiny jean shorts back pocket. He was topless.

"Troy put a fucking shirt on! Tristan will sneeze all day from the smell of that Hawaiian Tropic," Nicky chided.

"No swearing in front of the nino! And I'm not wearing any Hawaiian Tropic, this is sweat."

"Well go and wash it off," Nicky ordered, exasperated.

Troy looked ready to argue but then with a shrug he sashayed into her bathroom and ran water through the shower-head. Nicky looked down into Tristan's eyes, he was watching her attentively. She leaned in and showered his face with kisses. The baby's hands grasped her face tenaciously and he gummed her hair. Nicky laughed tearfully.

"Okay, I washed the sweat off now hand him over Mamacita, Tio Troy has made Junior some nice squashed fruit non?"

Nicky's arms tightened reflexively but with a deep breath she forced herself to hand the baby over to Troy who was cooing to Tristan in Spanish. The baby smiled and watched Nicky over Troy's shoulder as he carried him out of the room. Nicky felt tears well up as the distance between her and her son grew wider until the door shut.

She sat down on the bed weakly, how the hell was she going to get on that plane today and leave her baby behind? When they had discussed their next steps last month, Lee had told her that she could not take a single picture of Tristan. Apparently he had done some digging of his own about what she did for the CIA and whatever he had found had prompted him to tell her that she could never call and ask about Tristan directly nor could she take anything with her that might link her and Tristan together. Lee had also given her a fake passport and the number of a safety deposit box in Panama City which had another fake passport, money and title deeds to a ranch in Argentina where she could go and hide should anything go wrong. The seriousness of his tone had scared both her and Troy compelling them to adopt a similar attitude and take everything Lee said to heart.

The worst news had been that Lee had been promoted and his job at the NSA had posted him to work undercover for the DEA. Lee and Troy were moving to Thailand in February, so soon after Nicky left, the three people she held dearest would be moving to the other side of the world. Their official Cuban birth documentation for Tristan had already been processed and Lee had notified the NSA that he had fathered a child with a local woman in Cuba and that he was currently in the country so that he could bring his son with him and Troy.

The plan was that Troy and Lee would raise Tristan as their son which gave Nicky the chance to visit with them after they made their new baby 'public'. This involved cursorily introducing Tristan to Lee's parents and siblings. They would obviously want nothing to do with him either; they were barely on speaking terms with Lee since he had come out of the closet and 'shacked up' with Troy.

After they moved to Thailand and had settled in Nicky would come to Bangkok on vacation. It all seemed so easy but it wasn't, Nicky was going to have to walk away from her son and she could not keep pictures of him or anything, to be on the safe side. How had working to protect American lives become so dangerous and such a nightmare overall?

She picked up Tristan's beanie baby and looked at it wistfully, despite what Lee had said she was going to take this with her. It smelt of baby, her baby and she deserved at least that reminder of him during the inevitably long and lonely nights she was faced with in Paris.

Oh God, Paris, the City of Lights and Love, where Tristan had been conceived. Then why did she feel this sick feeling in her stomach that warned going back there was the same as going to the guillotine? She knew why, because Jason Bourne would come and see her every two weeks for the scheduled check ups. He would act like they had never been more than logistics technician and Treadstone asset for one magical night. He would never know that that one night had created this beautiful, glorious life that would be loved and nurtured with minimal participation from her and total ignorance to his existence by Bourne.

She had never realized that choosing to work for the CIA and Conklin and Treadstone in particular would give her so much then take away pretty much everything. She obviously had been naïve to think that she could go to work and save the world and then go home and finally live a life with love, security and acceptance that she had only found from Grandmother Margaret, Lee and Troy. Whether she liked it or not, the choice had been made for her, she would continue to 'save the world' but she would miss out on the love, security and acceptance. She would also continue to turn up to work and look Jason Bourne and Conklin in the eye like Tristan and her birthday last year had never happened. Not, ever existed. Even she could not entertain the thought of acting like neither that night or Tristan had ever existed.

Rising from the bed Nicky hid the beanie baby in her open suitcase and then went downstairs to enjoy her last few hours of love, security and sunshine.

---------------xxx

A/Post - Note: Let me know what y'all think! And I apologize in advance for bad spelling and grammar in French and Spanish. If anyone has the correct spellings or grammar feel free to hook me up.

Don't forget to feed the writer... reviews, comments, additions, subtractions and constructive criticisms are welcome!


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: Alright guys, I know two of y'all out there in the World Wide Web read my story and it intrigued y'all enough to add it to your alerts. But no review? No feedback to tell me why it was worthy of alert-addage?! You guys have got to let me know what you think! What you liked, what you didn't like, what was OOC... Whatever, something... please!

Don't make me beg, it ain't pretty.

--------------------------------xxx-----------------------xxx---------------------

**Part II - Dealing With It  
**

31 January 2001

Nicky nuzzled the white beanie baby she had taken from Tristan's crib, much to her consternation; the soft scent of baby was already beginning to fade from the toy. Sleep refused to come back to her so she rolled over onto her back with a frustrated grunt.

She glanced over at her digital alarm clock it read 23:59; she sighed in frustration, resting her hands on her now incredibly toned abdomen. She missed the feel of the baby moving inside her; especially when he did so in response to Troy's drum-playing, loud salsa music and the sound of Troy, Lee and Nicky's voices.

She had been back in Paris 4 days now and already she felt like her sojourn in Cuba had been part of a long and elaborately detailed fevered dream. She felt so detached and disconnected here, like she had woken up from a long coma and stumbled into someone else who looked exactly like hers' life. She missed the comfort, security and sense of belonging she felt with Lee and Troy. Silent tears streamed down her cheeks and into her hairline as she fought very hard not to think of those last few minutes in the Cuban beach house before Lee drove her to the airport. Tristan had still been awake gurgling in her arms. When she told him to take care of Lee and Troy he had actually laughed, it was the first time he had laughed making her leaving him that much more bittersweet. She picked up the beanie baby and pressed it to her heart, taking big gulping breaths. She knew why she couldn't sleep; tomorrow she was going to have to face Jason Bourne in the safe house as he had a new assignment. The thought of seeing him after she had been through so much; made her want to crawl out of her skin and run as fast and as far away from Bourne and Treadstone as possible.

Suddenly Nicky had the sensation that she was not alone in the room, the hairs on the back of her neck stood up as the feeling crystallized, grew then climbed into the bed with her, jump-starting her heart rate with fear and adrenaline. Taking one last watery ragged breath for courage, Nicky sat up in the bed abruptly and nearly screamed as she saw Jason Bourne sitting casually in her bedroom chair. She brought a shaking hand to her heart and turned on her bedside lamp, blinking at the dim glow of light in the previously dark room.

"I saw you walking in the Place de Vendôme yesterday, you looked… lost," Bourne said by way of explanation.

"So you thought you'd make me feel better by breaking and entering into my apartment, creeping into my bedroom and watching me while I slept?"

Nicky was secretly impressed by how steady and sarcastic her voice came out. Jason's lips twisted into an ironic smile.

"Yeah kind of, is it working?"

"No. Please leave."

Jason got up and Nicky recoiled until she realized that he was merely respecting her request, he made ready to climb out of her window and onto her tiny balcony. Nicky shot out of the bed, the beanie baby momentarily forgotten, got tangled in her bedding.

"Wait! Don't go," Nicky cried out, stumbling out of the bed, tripping then landing on her knee with a sharp thud.

Bourne turned around and wrapping his hand around her upper arm, half helped, half hauled her up. Wincing in pain she let him lead her to the edge of the bed and help her sit down. He knelt in front of her and gingerly examined her left knee. Nicky clenched her fists in the sheets, fighting the urge to throw herself in his arms and beg him to love and hold her. It could backfire horribly; there was no room for love of anything else but the job in a Treadstone asset's life or heart. Also she did not want to appear weak in front of Jason, choosing instead to take her cues on how familiar or distant to be from him.

"That's swelling up real fast, I'll go get you some ice," Jason had already stood up and was halfway out her bedroom.

Nicky bit her lip and promised herself that if she survived tonight with Jason, she was going to buy herself those kid-skin jodhpurs she'd seen at Gucci yesterday. It was the least she could do!

"Here, press that on here firmly," Jason instructed as he pressed the ice-pack on her knee, taking her hand he guided it onto the pack and stepped away from her.

She looked up at him blankly, "I didn't mean to be rude. You're right I am feeling a bit down and… lost."

Jason frowned at her silently.

"I was going to ask how you circumvented the alarm but that would be a really stupid question," Nicky joked lamely.

He continued to stare at her, and she squirmed uncomfortably. The ice was starting to burn her skin but one stern glare from Jason stopped her from removing it. The silence stretched uncomfortably between them and Nicky became very self-conscious about her black and white cow pajamas. They were so childish!

"Okay, I think the swelling's gone down, why don't we move to the kitchen, I can make us a cup of coffee and I have some brioche from the bakery down the street…" her voice petered out as Jason walked away from her.

He stopped outside her closet and opening the doors he picked out a black windbreaker and black jeans, he shut the doors and laid them out next to her. Nicky's mouth fell open slightly, wondering what exactly he was going to do.

He opened her chest of drawers, going for the second drawer from the top and pulling out a dark-colored turtleneck he tossed it to her. It was either a lucky guess or he had been here before, Nicky would never ask but she was quite confident it was the latter.

"Get dressed, we're going out," he ordered as he shut her bedroom door behind her.

Nicky blinked unsure whether she was outraged by his dictatorial attitude or pleased that he was taking her out somewhere. Down girl, she warned herself, last time Jason Bourne had taken her out her life had changed forever, her chest contracted in pain as Tristan's cherubic face swam up in front of her. Biting her lip in determination she hobbled to her feet, testing her weight on the knee she found it was not so bad and hurriedly dressed.

-------xx

Jason stood in the street-lit darkness of Nicky's small, clean and cosy kitchen. The room was dominated by a small pine table that seated 4 people, copper, steel and cast-iron pots hung along the southern wall. Pine cabinets adorned the northern wall and the twin-tubbed kitchen sink was under a wide louvred window with creeping ivy and pots of fresh coriander, parsley and fresh mint.

He surveyed the room from a dark corner, making sure he did not get himself accidentally caught in some would-be sniper's sight-lines from outside the window. He leaned against the wall and let out an exhausted breath, he'd had a very long day. Running and training himself extra hard as he fought the need to visit Nicky and elicit the smiles and trust she had given him on her birthday the year before.

The special assignment he had been working on with Conklin and two of the other Treadstone assets over the last 6 months had drained a lot out of him, widening the gap between David Webb and Jason Bourne even further. In fact he felt like the raging river that had been running between the man he used to be and Jason Bourne the man he was still in the embryonic phases of becoming; had widened so much after his work in the Middle East these last 6 months that there was now a sea between the two. David Webb was standing on a small island and Jason Bourne was detachedly watching the water rising steadily around Webb, soon it would engulf and drown David completely. Jason Bourne did not know how he felt about that.

Then there was Nicky, she had been there from his first day with Treadstone, sitting in the aisle across from his on the plane that took 30 carefully handpicked individuals to the Treadstone orientation retreat in Vermont. She was also a part of Jason Bourne's world that much was not in dispute but everything inside him was screaming that it was all wrong. She did not belong here in the dark with Treadstone, she belonged in the light. She was supposed to be living her life, dating anyone she wanted and doing whatever she wanted without fear or fear of endangerment.

He found her intriguing, and he knew that he was very much drawn to her because of her youth, innocence, fresh face and perfectionist work ethic. At the retreat he had mainly interacted with her in the mornings when they went for a run together and a few times during the month-long retreat when they tried to hide from the rest of the group by going to the library.

He had been around the block a few times he knew that a certain type of character was picked to work as any part of the integral team of a black ops unit. But Nicky didn't fit the bill exactly; her youth and her intrinsic goodness put her at risk. Treadstone was full of predators and both Jason Bourne and David Webb's voices were making an accusing cacophony in his head telling him that he needed to help this girl stay alive. Treadstone may be necessary for the security of the United States but it was bad… a necessary evil. There was no doubt in Jason's mind that he was going to Hell for the things he did in the name of Uncle Sam but he didn't care. Nicky however, he wanted to protect somehow, she was young and flexible enough to move on from Treadstone and lead a normal life with a husband, 2.4 kids, a dog and white picket fence.

"I'm ready," Nicky spoke softly from her bedroom doorway.

Jason turned towards her, moving away from the kitchen he lightly touched her arm and led her towards the front door. Nicky automatically reached over for her hat, gloves and scarf, then looked up at Jason expectantly.

"When you get to the end of your road, count to three then turn left and keep walking. Don't look for me, I'll catch up with you when I feel it is right," he instructed her.

Nicky opened her mouth and shut it again, nodding vigorously as she tried to tame the screaming bird of panic flailing wildly in her ribcage. He had found out about Tristan! Conklin had found out about Tristan and now she was going to have to run! Or maybe they were on their way over to Cuba and were going to take her baby away! Stop it Nicky, you're being ridiculous, she chided herself.

Turning away from Jason and picking up her keys she unlocked the door and then stepped out, when she looked up as she shut the door Jason had disappeared. She resisted the urge to run back into the apartment and look for him, locking the door resolutely she pulled on a dark green wool hat on top of her blonde hair, tucking the shoulder skimming ends underneath her fleece-lined jacket and wrapping a matching dark green wool scarf around her neck. She walked down the hallway purposefully and started to plot how the hell she would get out of Paris if Conklin had found out about Tristan and how she would save her son.

--------------xxx

Jason led Nicky to a dark blue Renault Clio and told her to drive. She looked at him in surprise but did as she was told. Reversing the car out of the parking spot, Jason directed her in mono-syllables his tone brooking no questions or superfluous conversation. Nicky's heart was thudding so hard in her chest she was not actually capable of speech anyway as she wondered what was going to happen to her. Jason directed her to drive out North of Paris, once on the highway he eventually indicated that she drive down an off-beaten path in the woods just outside Rémy.

As the little car bumped and shook down the uneven road, Nicky finally had had enough and she slammed on the brakes suddenly while simultaneously releasing her seatbelt. Within half a second she had bolted out of the car and was sprinting away from Jason as fast as she could. She zig-zagged through the trees in the poorly-lit dark, ducking her head every once in a while and stealing a glance over her shoulder to see if Jason was pursuing her. She couldn't see him but she heard a branch or twig snap on the frosty ground and ran away from the direction she thought she heard the sound come from. Oh God, I was so right not to tell him about Tristan! He's a machine, he can't think for himself anymore! Conklin's told him to kill me and he's just going to do it! Tears streaked down her face as she sprinted through the trees, stumbling a few times and scraping her face on an overhanging branch. Then she heard a stream babbling off to the left so she ran towards the sound reasoning that she could get in the water and hopefully swim away or better yet cross over to the other side seeing as it was less than 5̊ C out here.

Breaking out of the trees she saw the river and was just about to jump into it when her world veered crazily out of control, she only realized what had happened when the air whooshed out of her and her head thudded against the cold earth.

"Never run for a clearing just because it's a clearing, there could be a sniper waiting for you to make it easier for him," Jason yelled at her, he was on his haunches leaning over her prostate form, his face mere inches away.

"If you're going to kill me just kill me!" Nicky screamed at him.

Jason's face went blank, "What are you talking about? Why would I be trying to kill you?"

"I don't know, aren't you?"

"No…I'm trying to teach you."

It was Nicky's turn to go blank, "Teach me what?"

"How to protect yourself should the need arise."

"Why would the need arise," she asked testily, her fear ebbing.

Jason's expression was disappointed, "Nicky what the hell do you think Treadstone is? Anything can happen."

Nicky closed her eyes, and took a couple deep calming breaths; she could just kill him for this. The sonofabitch could have just told her he was trying to train her instead of scaring the living shit out of her.

"Nicky?"

Her fist came out of nowhere; she decked him as hard as she could. He rocked back on his heels stunned not only by the blow but the force behind it. Nicky reached her hands back and using her arms propelled herself up onto her feet in a move called the Chinese wake-up.

She raised her clenched fists up in the ready stance her brown eyes spitting fire as Jason got up too and assumed his own ready stance, an angry red mark bloomed around his left eye. He was watching her warily; surprised by her daring move and by the way she convincingly looked capable of wreaking havoc.

Mentally shrugging he thought he could have some fun with her. He feinted to the left and she took the bait, moving forward to the right she launched herself at him, pushing with her hands, hooking her legs behind Jason's and effectively bringing them both down. Quick as a cat she crawled over him, straddling his hips with her thighs she raised both hands into fists and pummeled his chest repetitively. It wasn't the most refined way to hurt someone but it was effective as she literally howled out all her repressed anger, frustration and bitterness.

Jason could disable her in a split-second but something in her eyes and her voice told him she needed this so he let her be until she stopped, spent and breathing heavily she looked into his blue eyes and he offered her a rueful smile. Looking up at her with concern in his eyes and that boyish smile reaffirmed that Tristan was his son; they looked exactly alike in that moment and Nicky's tears of sorrow rushed down her cheeks silently.

It was only when one fat drop of salt landed on Jason's face that she realized she was weeping and bringing a confused hand up to her face she wiped them away, simultaneously rolling off Jason at the same time. He sat up and did something he hadn't thought he was still capable of; he wrapped an arm around her and brought her in for a hug. She fought it feebly before burying her face in his neck and sniffling a little as she let the last of her volatile emotions sigh out of her.

After a few minutes she pulled away from him and looked out at the river, "Where are we exactly?"

Her voice came out hoarse and wobbly, she winced inwardly at how weak Jason must find her.

"The town of Remy is 5 miles away this is the river," Jason said in an emotionless voice.

Nicky crossed her legs Indian-style and looked over at him, "I'm sorry about the pounding on your chest thing."

Jason's eyebrows went up in amusement, "And you're not sorry about punching me in the face?"

"No, that you totally deserved for scaring me like that."

Jason grinned admiring her spunk, "Why would I make you drive to your assassination point? Too much evidence, I could've just done whatever to you while you were sleeping."

"Not only is that not funny and/or comforting, it's totally inappropriate seeing as I woke up to find you sitting in my room," she told him archly, risking a haughty glance in his direction.

Jason laughed out-loud at this, "Good point."

Nicky felt a smile tug at her lips in response to him and the harder she resisted it the more she felt like smiling.

"So Happy New Year and Belated tidings of Martin Luther King Jr. Day," she said with levity in her voice.

He studied her with those intense eyes of his and inclined his head in response, "You too."

Nicky smiled then, she realized it was the first time she had genuinely done so since she left Cuba.

"So how was your time off," Jason enquired politely.

"Oh it was relaxing and stressful at the same time. I had this proposal to submit for my Masters at Brown… I'm halfway through the first half of the course and I still haven't found someone flexible enough to be my supervisor long distance yet," she explained.

"What's it going to be on?"

"Something to do with Behavioral Psychology and Drugs," Nicky hedged.

"Behavioral Psychology huh? I thought your first degree was in Communication and Information Technology?"

Nicky's face registered surprise then she remembered who she was talking to, "Yeah, but I decided I wanted to do something a little different for my Masters."

"In addition to the Bachelor in French and Linguistics you're doing at the Sorbonne, how do you have time for work," Jason asked, his tone showing her that he was impressed.

Nicky turned her gaze out to the water, "I'm a pretty organized person, the degrees keep me busy... lowers the chances of me getting myself in extra-curricular hot water, well that was the plan anyway."

"Yeah but you're young and should enjoy your life too, all work and no play makes for a very highly strung individual."

"Hello Pot? Unh huh… yes it's Kettle just wanted to remind you that you're black too," Nicky quipped smartly.

Jason nudged her with his elbow good-naturedly and Nicky beamed at him.

"You're in Paris Nicky you sh-"

"Hate to break it to you JB but you're beginning to sound like a Dad again," she teased.

Jason scowled at her and she bit her lip to stop herself from laughing, "And hello, I dropped two tabs of E on my birthday last year, went out drinking and on the town every weekend after, vacationed on the Riviera with my 'cute redhead friend Louisa', had a blast back in the States which is why my Masters Proposal was handed in just before I came back to Gaie Paris… what more do you want?"

He nodded along with every action she listed, raising a tentative hand he traced the scratch on her cheek from her earlier collision with a branch and then looked into her eyes, "I don't want anything more for you than for you to be happy."

"Why?"

"Why do I want you to be happy? Why would I want you to be sad?"

"No… Why do you care, we were acquaintances at orientation and we don't hang out here except for that one time, so tell me… why do you care" she asked in him a tone that implied she thought he was simple.

"I don't know why, I just do," Jason replied, his hand dropped from her face and he turned away unable to mask his own confusion.

Nicky mulled this over, chewing on her bottom lip as she did.

"Don't start psychoanalyzing me Nicky," he warned gravely, his eyes skidding over to clash with hers.

She raised her eyes up to his and reading the tension in his body language, she shrugged in an attempt to show him she was not perturbed. Psychoanalysis would be straying into the dangerous territory of work and the unwritten rule between them was that work was never discussed outside of work.

"Okay, I won't. Not that I was anyway… I haven't really learned how to do that professionally yet…"

An awkward silence descended over them and Nicky turned to look at the gurgling stream again. Jason studied her profile and thought to himself that something had changed from when he'd spied her walking forlornly yesterday. She seemed genuinely more relaxed and well, present. Yesterday and even earlier in her apartment tonight she hadn't seemed to be all there. He felt a spark of pride ignite at the thought that he had managed to help her. He saw her suppress a shiver and got up, leaning over to help her rise.

"It's freezing out here and I don't think there's anymore we can do tonight, let's go back to Paris," he was leading her back into the trees as he spoke.

Nicky followed obediently, she suddenly felt very tired. They trudged through the forest in the dark for twenty minutes before they got back to the car. Nicky hadn't realized that she had run so far! She was also surprised that the car wasn't still running then she remembered that Jason was a pro and he wouldn't have left it running or unlocked. He had even taken the time to park it in such a way that it was virtually hidden.

He opened the passenger door for her and shut it behind her after she slid in; going round the front of the car he got into the driver's side and started the car. He let the car heat up for a few minutes, their breaths forming white clouds in front of their noses. As soon as the car was warm, he reversed the car and expertly drove it out of the woods. Facing the main road he turned on the lights and manoeuvred the car onto the highway and back in the direction they'd come from. Nicky reached down and turned on the car radio, a French polka song was playing so she fiddled with the dials as she searched for a station playing music she actually liked.

"Were you serious about training me?"

"Yeah, I would feel a whole lot better if we-you were trained."

"But I am sufficiently trained for what I do."

She settled on a classical music station, the haunting strains of YoYo Ma's '_Cello Sonata in E Minor_' wafted out of the speakers.

"Basic training… it's not enough," Jason snorted.

"Well Conklin seems to think so," Nicky retorted.

"Conklin's going back to Langley soon, you'll be left to deal with Treadstone assets all by yourself, and do you think you'd last half a second with an asset if he got violent?"

"But he _or she_ would have no reason to get violent with me," Nicky argued stubbornly.

"Nicky, everything you're saying reinforces my opinion that a little extra training wouldn't be a bad thing, I won't always be around to protect you," Jason said matter-of-factly.

Nicky gave him an unreadable look, "You're not supposed to be protecting me. You're an asset and I run logistics and have dabbled in being your handler. If Conklin's leaving for Langley soon, I guess I might be promoted to principal handler, whatever happens you're not supposed to protect me. You're just supposed to work with me when the job demands and that's it."

"I think the first thing we need to practice is the quickest and deadliest way for you to disable an opponent and defend yourself… and how to lose a tail," Jason spoke as if she hadn't said anything.

Nicky stared at him in disbelief and when he pulled his eyes from the road to meet her gaze she turned away. Quietly looking out the window, she tried to figure out what his angle was as well as decide on whether or not she should tell Conklin she had woken up to find his prized asset sitting in her bedroom watching her sleep. Ole Canker Worm would have an apoplectic fit of medieval proportions if he knew that she had willingly left the house with said asset and proceeded to punch him in the face among many other things. Oh God what if someone spotted them riding in this car together? What if the car itself was bugged? She looked around the car discreetly, trying to spot signs of a camera or an audio wire of some kind.

"This is exactly why you need my help," Jason said smugly.

Nicky rolled her eyes at him and studied the side-view mirror, looking to see if anyone was following them but the road was empty. Sighing she leaned her head back on the head-rest and closed her eyes. Seconds later her lids snapped open as she recognized the song that had started playing.

"Oh my God, this is one of my favorite songs of all time… Debussy, '_Clair de Lune_'!"

Jason watched her fingers tap on an imaginary keyboard as if she was playing the song on the piano herself, his eyes travelled up to her face but her eyes were closed and a small smile played on her lips. The fact that her behavior was totally unaffected, turned him on, but he suppressed that dangerous emotion, forcing himself to think of his plump middle-aged landlady naked until the feeling went away.

"My Grandmother played this song for me on the piano when I was five and throwing a tantrum because I thought the piano was boring," Nicky volunteered.

"Then what happened?"

"I loved the song so much I made her teach me how to play it before I took any further basic lessons in piano," Nicky said with a nostalgic smile.

"How long did that take?"

"About a year for me to learn the whole thing… she was crafty she broke it up into little parts so she could also teach me how to read sheet music as she went along."

Jason smiled at her, "Ah… she was clever."

"The cleverest… by the time I was ten I had attained a grade 6 certificate in piano and a grade 3 in violin… something about how real ladies had at least two musical instruments in their repertoire," Nicky explained.

Jason's heart skipped a beat; she was sharing something that was important to her. His training made it easy to pick that up from the tone of her voice and her body language. Once again this young woman who was barely more than a girl was giving him her trust, yet she knew what he was. It never ceased to amaze and humble him. No wonder he was drawn to her.

"Do you still play?"

"The piano yes, whenever I get a chance. The violin… I haven't touched one since Maggie passed away, there's just something too sad about it for me, without her," Nicky spoke candidly.

"How long ago was that?"

"Six years ago in May."

The depth of her emotions was evident in the way her body tensed as she spoke about her grandmother. Jason tried to catch her eyes but she had turned away from him, looking out the window. As the last strains of the song played Nicky's eyes met his in the window reflection and she smiled at him wanly. He smiled back and she leaned her head back, brought her knees up, pressed them against the door and closed her eyes.

A few minutes later Jason could see that her breathing had slowed down considerably, she was asleep. He let his eyes roam over her curled up form, searching for something but he did not know what. All he knew was that she was different, she had changed since the last time he had seen her but then so was he. Six months was a long time, maybe there were things that had happened to her that she would never think to tell him about. Maybe she had dated someone and now they had split up. He noted that she had a slight tan, her hair, nails and skin all indicated that she had been eating healthily and well. She certainly was giving some kind of vibe that suggested love and loss of some kind. Jason explored the various possibilities and concluded that she must have gotten her heart broken by some guy.

He shrugged mentally; that's what being in your late teens and early twenties was all about, if the heartbreak didn't kill you it was character-building stuff that everyone experienced. He wondered if she had missed him at all during her break, he knew he had missed her. In fact memories of their dinner on her birthday and everything that had come after had kept Jason going in the Middle East with Conklin. Nicky would never believe it if he told her but it was not an exaggeration. That night with Nicky was the only time since he had joined Treadstone that Jason had felt like a human being. He had felt the way David Webb used to feel all the time; alive and human. And the craziest part was that the whole thing had been an impulse. He certainly had not planned to go to a rave with her. Nor had he intended to have sex with her. Well not that night anyway. If he was going to be honest with himself, her girl-next-door look drove him wild. Which was weird because David Webb had never been really into that type of woman. David Webb had liked them worldly and sophisticated. As far away from the kinds of girls he'd grown up with in Nixa, Missouri as he could get. Yet both David and Jason found Nicky appealing. Something about the way she appeared to be wiser beyond her years and mysterious. She was not yet adept at it but she could be unreadable when she wanted to be. Nothing intrigued a man more than mystery in a woman!

As they approached the outskirts of Paris, a string of cars in the opposite lane blinded Jason with their headlights. He shielded his eyes and slowed down the car as he felt a sharp burst of pain behind his eyes. Damn headaches! He had been having them since the assignment in Beirut 4 months ago. They came and went, they weren't anything too intense and Jason dismissed them as a minor glitch in the otherwise well-oiled machinery that was his body. He had to make sure he got some extra-strength painkillers from Conklin or Nicky when he came back from his assignment next week.

Assets were not supposed to know when they were being summoned for an assignment but Jason had broken into the safe house yesterday night and seen the preparatory paperwork Nicky and Conklin used for missions in the safe he'd broken into. Judging from the sheer volume of the file he had deduced he would be getting the call from Conklin to go and see Nicky at the safe house tomorrow morning. His fists clenched the steering wheel for a second then he forced himself to let it go. He dreaded not knowing what his assignments were because he did not want to have a repeat of the Neski mission. The wife had been collateral damage and that had irked him because it had ruined his clean kill.

Jason pulled up to a side street behind Nicky's apartment and shook her awake gently. She mumbled something in her sleep, her hand covering his and stroking it lightly. Jason felt electric tingles dance up his arm at the soft caress. He frowned and disengaging his hand shook her harder. With a start she woke up, sitting up and looking around her in startled confusion.

"I'm home."

"Yeah, you are."

Nicky nodded and clasped her hands in her lap, she had been about to touch him but the vibes he was giving off told her he would not like that at all. She fumbled for the latch in the door and opened it.

"Good night," she said in a falsely cheerful voice as she stepped out of the car.

"Night," Jason responded in that same emotionless voice.

Nicky let the door shut with a passive aggressive slam and taking a quick look around her progressed around the corner and towards the front of her building. Jason drove off with a squeal of tires, the need to get as far away from her as possible overriding his cautiousness. It was scary that he had wanted to follow her up those stairs and get into bed with her. David Webb liked to have people around him; Jason Bourne did not need anyone.

----------------xxx--------

"Conklin's really pissed." Danny Zorn warned Nicky as she stepped into her office.

"Why, what happened?"

"Lost an asset last night."

Nicky gasped in shock, her heart hammering in her throat as she thought of Jason.

"Who? Not one of mine-"

"No, relax, its one of the girls out of Treadstone-Madrid, apparently Spanish Counter-Intelligence had one of their own protecting the target so our asset completed her mission but was shot-"

Danny brought his hand up and mimicking a gun pressed his forefinger into Nicky's forehead, "right between _les yeux_, bang."

Nicky shivered and recoiled from him, "Oh my God that's terrible."

"Yeah well you know Conkers he's not upset about her dying, he's more upset about the fact that the Spanish guy made her so he's got all kinds of crazy new ideas about making the assets, leaner, meaner, more calculating and basically more bad-ass. I don't know how he's going to do that cause in Beirut I saw some shit I have yet to see in the movies," Danny whispered the last sentence.

Nicky wrapped her arms around herself as she was struck by two things, one, Conklin and Danny were both apathetic about the death of the asset, two, whatever Conklin had in mind could not be good for Jason. The whole programme was designed to take these peoples' souls and leave nothing but an eerily efficient human-looking robot.

"NICKY! Get in here, now!" Conklin bellowed from his office.

She jumped and gave Danny the finger when he gave her two thumbs up, sweeping past him she squared her shoulders and stepped into Conklin's office.

-----------xxx-------

"Are you suffering from any headaches, pains, insomnia, feverish symptoms, increased or decreased libido, diarrhoea, vomiting," Nicky asked Jason dispassionately.

"Headaches yes, the rest no," Jason replied.

They were sitting in the Paris safe house and Nicky was conducting the new style of interviews Conklin had ordered for all the assets since the Madrid incident yesterday. He now wanted a full medical and psychological evaluation of the assets every two weeks. Nicky had been tasked with the job "Since these guys see you as their little sister and aren't hostile or as guarded around you".

"How bad are the headaches? And how often would you say you get them," Nicky asked worriedly.

She looked up from her writing pad and leaning forward scanned Jason's face intently. He stiffened in his seat and pulled himself away from her, his left eye had a purplish-red mark from where her fist had connected last night. Nicky had given herself a mental pat on the shoulder when she had acted reasonably surprised by his eye, even asking him about during the preliminaries. Typically, he'd brushed off her query like she had had nothing to do with it.

"Not too bad, usually just a sharp pain behind the eyes and then a momentary dull overall aching in my head for a few minutes then they are gone. I've had two of those in the last 30 days. I figured it was because I had over-exerted myself and didn't get any sleep afterward."

His eyes were hostile, forcing Nicky to lean back in her chair, pick up her pen and pad and scribble what he was saying. When he was done speaking she looked up at him hesitantly.

"That's good."

He raised an eyebrow.

She casually waved a hand in the air, his eyes followed the movement and his body tensed. She brought it back down onto the pad and took a steadying breath.

"I didn't mean good as in good, I meant that your description of the symptoms was good cause then I can help make sure we get you the right prescription," she explained hurriedly. Her face was flushing in embarrassment as he continued to watch her as if she was the one being evaluated and examined.

"Okay, so we're done here. Let me just get you some Valium which you are to take two pills of whenever you get one of those headaches."

As she spoke Nicky went to her medicine cabinet and locating the correct bottle of pills took it out and set it on her desk. Typing in his name and the prescription she printed out a label and stuck it on the bottle. When she looked up he had risen to stand in front of her, he snatched the bottle from her slack hands and with a derisive snort left the room and the safe house.

Nicky sank weakly into her chair, her heart hammering a triple staccato in her chest.

"Wanna know what you did wrong?"

Nicky had forgotten that Conklin had been watching the whole hour and a half long session on his monitor in the other room.

"Yes please," Nicky said meekly.

"You tried to treat him like a human being. His programming makes him react negatively to that. Clinical, structured discourse he understands. Touchy-feely crap sets him on edge and makes you a threat. These assets seeing you as a little sister does not under any circumstances mean you should try and engage them on a personal level. Don't try to be cute, a couple of these guys have killed their little sisters so its not a fool-proof way for them to relate to you. Take your cues from them if they are in the mood for banter, banter back very lightly and then go back to business. Don't try to be their friend or challenge them in any way. Danny will be here to keep an eye on you until the summer when I return until then remember everything I've taught you, it'd be a damn shame to lose you to your own stupidity. In general, they all react and respond so well to you and I'd hate to mess up their routine by bringing in an entirely new and foreign handler."

The more Conklin spoke the stronger the urge to hit him possessed her, but 21 or not she was a professional so she merely nodded attentively; hiding her hands under her desk she clenched them into tight fists.

"Okay Nicky, you've got paperwork to file, when you're done you can go. Our dinner with Danny is at 20:00 hours at Café Paris don't be late young lady, I have to meet someone for drinks at 21:30 hours then board my plane to Langley," Conklin said over his shoulder as he shrugged his coat on.

Nicky watched him go with a curt nod then pushing all her anger and irritation away set to doing as she had been told.

---------------xxxx-----------

"What'd Conklin say?"

Nicky tried to turn to look at Jason but he stepped forward and stood next to the railing with her, dragging her into the shadow of the Île de la Cité with him.

"About?"

"My reaction when you were asking me about the headaches."

Nicky gritted her teeth and clenched her fists for a few seconds stoically refusing to answer his question. To his credit, Jason did not push her, merely standing quietly, his hand still tightly clamped on her left upper arm.

"He said that I shouldn't try any touchy-feely crap as it made you view me as a threat," Nicky said irritably.

Jason chuckled, "He's right."

Nicky glared up at him and tried to wrench her arm out of his hand, Jason planted his feet and held on tighter, bringing his other hand up to grip her other arm he swivelled her round and pressed her up against the railing, pushing her backwards until she stopped struggling.

"You see why you need my help? Another asset could overpower you for the wrong reasons… might do you bodily harm if you're lucky or kill you if you're unlucky."

Nicky bit back a scream of fear and rage. How dare he treat her like this? He was always scaring her then being really nice to her, then chasing her and making her feel gauche and inferior. What did he think she was? He treated her like she was some kind of toy! Hot, irate tears seeped through her lids helplessly. Jason brought her back up and released her.

She slapped him as hard as she could and screamed, "Brulée en fière, cogne!"

Stomping away from him she only took a couple steps before Jason grabbed her arm, "Nicky wait, please! I'm sorry okay? I took it too far."

In spite of herself she stopped, swayed by the plaintive honesty in his voice. They stood there for a few minutes, Nicky trembling with rage and Jason waiting for her to look at him or say something.

"Why," Nicky asked with a desperate need to understand.

"Why what?"

"Why did you follow me then come here and do that," she asked, curiosity pushing her hurt anger to the backburner.

Releasing her arm, Jason put his hands in his pocket and squared his shoulders, searching for the right words and failing to find them he just looked at her helplessly. Nicky absentmindedly rubbed her arms where Jason had grabbed her and cocked her head to the side.

"You followed me because you felt bad about how you left the safe house, your compulsion to apologise was so strong that you decided to actually come and talk to me. My telling you what Conklin said pissed you off and you decided to punish both me and Conklin by proving him right. Despite what you are trained to think and feel, somewhere inside you, what Conklin and I do, what we represent pisses you off. How am I doing?"

As Nicky spoke, Jason began to get tenser and tenser, his eyes darkening and his face blank as he studied her warily. When she was done speaking he felt himself nod slowly in confirmation.

Nicky didn't smile triumphantly, instead her shoulders slumped tiredly.

"When push comes to shove, nothing you teach me is going to protect me from you is it?"

He shook his head slowly.

"Then I think we're done here and I don't think you and I should see each for anything unrelated to work," Nicky spoke softly, her brown eyes watching him closely.

Jason maintained a stony silence, his hands bunched into fists inside his jacket pocket. After a few very long uncomfortable minutes he took a step back from her, silently letting her know that she was free to go. Nicky put her own hands in her pockets and with one last look at him she turned and walked away from him.

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P.S. My laptop and spellchecker is Canadian so it auto-corrects all my American spelling, I don't know how to stop it, the thing has a life of its own. Sometimes I catch it sometimes I don't. Sorry! I need a beta? Anyone up for it?

P.P.S Please, pretty please, let me know what you think of it!


	3. Chapter 3 Training

There have been some very lovely people who have reviewed this story since my last update. Thank You!

For those of y'all still adding this to your lists and not telling me what you think, come on guys!

**TRAINING **

February 14th 2001

"Dix minutes Celina on retourne," Louisa reassured her as she pushed off her bar-stool and walked towards the exit, with her boyfriend Jacques in tow.

Nicky waved them off and took another gulp of her vodka martini, winking saucily at the bar-tender when he placed another drink in front of her. The action brought attention to the tiny black velvet heart sticker on her right cheek. She turned to study the club as the crowd of people dressed in red, white and pink swelled around her in a mass of drunk and sweaty Valentine's Day celebrants.

A white rose waved under Nicky's nose, "I come in peace."

Nicky took the stem, and swiveled around to face Jason, he was wearing a black suit with a deep purple silk shirt, no tie, and the first two buttons were undone. A silver medallion of an ancient Greek coin glistened around his neck. He looked very Mediterranean. Nicky's eyes traveled up to his face which was clean shaven, he wore a decidedly apologetic grin.

"You're supposed to give a girl a red or a pink rose on Valentine's Day."

"I choose to be different."

Nicky nodded and turned to face the teeming mass of people, her eyes subconsciously flicking over her scarlet red halter neck, Marilyn-Monroe style dress and scarlet T-bar sandals. Jason noticed and leaned in towards her.

"You look stunning in that dress Nicolette."

She blushed prettily, "Thank you, I think you're looking quite amazing yourself."

Jason's left hand reached out to stroke down her arm absently, the skin shimmered with body glitter, "Why aren't you here with anyone?"

"I'm here with Jacques and Louisa."

"That's not what I meant."

Nicky clasped the single stem rose in both hands, "I just am okay."

The tension between them grew, Nicky still refused to turn and face him, finding it safer to keep her eyes on anything but Jason.

"About the other day, I'm sorry Nicky. I didn't mean to scare you."

"Yes, you did."

"Okay, but I didn't fucking follow you out on the bridge in order to scare you."

The edge that crept into his voice, raised her heckles. And her gaze sharpened.

"Is there a point to this," Nicky asked irritably.

Jason took the rose away from her, Nicky stiffened; he broke off a little more than half the stem then pulling her stool towards him, he tucked the bloom behind her ear. She focused on the medallion around his neck, refusing to meet his eyes.

"I wanted you to know how sorry I am 'cause I feel so shit about it… but I still want you to be safe and I will train you… if you let me," Jason spoke earnestly.

Nicky searched his eyes, not knowing what to say, she wanted desperately to tell him to shove his training where the sun didn't shine, she was still having nightmares about the way he had hung her over the Seine two weeks ago. Then she saw how intently he was looking at her, the earnestness in his expression and body language that transcended training on how to manipulate people. Or so she wanted to believe. And could she really turn her back on him when he so desperately needed her to forgive him and not to shut him out? She knew pretty much everything he would want to hide from another person. She also knew his life was virtually devoid of human warmth or contact, and on some strange level she was the only thing in his life that wasn't cold or unfeeling. Besides, she needed him too, whatever contact she had with him reminded her that she wasn't just part of cold-blooded assassin puppet-show and that after it was all said and done, there was Tristan. Just thinking about her beautiful son made her want to shower Jason with kisses and thank him. She could not turn her back on the man who had helped create her precious son could she?

"Please, Nicky… I'll never do anything to scare you again."

"You can't make that promise, if we're going to train you'll have to scare me once in a while," she reminded him pointedly, her voice came out husky.

Jason inclined his head, "Okay, I'll never do anything to _unintentionally_ scare you again."

Nicky reached out and took his hands in hers, anchoring them both to each other; she continued to look into his eyes, probing the blue depths for something that would indicate his sincerity. Jason going against everything in his Treadstone training forced himself to relax and let her. Nicky took a deep breath then nodded curtly.

"Okay," she said finally.

Jason released a breath he did not know he had been holding, Nicky did the same, they both smiled at each other sheepishly. Silently they acknowledged the importance of the emotional battle that had just transpired. Jason's smile was so big it was like the sun coming out through a cluster of dark clouds.

Then he took her hand and led her onto the dance floor just as Whitney Houston's, '_My Love_' came on. Nicky laughed shyly as Jason took her into his arms, drawing her close and softly singing along.

Nicky's heart was doing a good impression of trying to break through her chest and scamper off onto the dance floor. The mental image of that happening made her chuckle to herself.

Jason smiled against her hair, "I can carry a tune, so why are you laughing at me?"

She lifted her head up and met his eyes, "I'm not, I just think it's well… incongruous that you like Whitney this much."

His eyes crinkled up, "What do you mean '_this much'_, she's an amazing singer."

Nicky rolled her eyes at this and then with a mischievous twinkle in her eye she said, "Well at least it's not Cher, then I'd really be worried."

"What do you mean? I love Cher too," Jason quipped.

Nicky laughed out loud and touched her forehead to his shoulder, he held her tighter and continued to sing along, chuckling whenever she'd pull away and stare at him in continued amazement. He subtly manoeuvred them deeper into the mass of swaying bodies and they stayed there for the next song which was a fast one; , '_My Love Don't Cost a Thing_'.

Nicky came alive on the dance floor, she moved her body to the beat, swaying her hips and moving her feet expertly. Jason feeding off her energy started to dance with her too, making a commendable effort to match her prowess. The next few songs were also fast and the two picked up the tempo becoming a more cohesive and naturally flowing unit. Some of the people dancing around them had slowed down half swaying to the music, half watching and cheering them on. Jason was able to quash the rising alarm inside him that said they were too visible and were drawing too much attention. Nicky was having so much fun and quite frankly so was he. Besides, he had already scoped out the place and the threat level was so low on all accounts it was worth it, just this once.

When the next slow song came on, Jason led Nicky off the dance floor and back towards the bar. They were both smiling light-heartedly and panting from the exertion when Louisa sidled up to Nicky.

"Celina!"

Nicky stumbled and stopped turning to look at her friend, "Salut! Il était plus de dix minutes, non?"

Louisa smiled and addressed Nicky in thickly accented English, "Who was the handsome man you were dancing with?"

Nicky frowned at Louisa in puzzlement turning to look over at Jason; she blinked in disappointed shock when she realized he had disappeared. She fumbled for words as she met Louisa's sharp eyes.

"Umm… I don't know who he was… he came up to me when you guys left, gave me a rose and asked me to dance," Nicky explained.

It was Louisa's turn to frown, "He didn't give you a name?"

"No… How long were you watching us?"

"We just walked in, saw you swaying with a well-dressed attractive looking man, I did not see his visage… you two were trés close together non," Louisa probed teasingly.

Nicky forced herself not to let her body language betray her, "Yeah well the dance floor's pretty crowded and it's Valentine's Day Louisa, can't I get a little up close and personal with a strange man on le jour d'amour?"

Louisa shook her head laughing; Jacques appeared by her side handing them each a drink. Louisa was still chuckling when she put her arm around Nicky and steered her back towards the dance floor, "Ah Celina how very Anglo of you, for us every day is a jour d'amour!"

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March 20, 2001

Jason followed Nicky as she speed-walked through the various stalls at the Farmer's Market in Bordeaux. She was doing a reasonable job at staying ahead and evading him but if he was an asset on a mission she would already be dead. The thought made his chest constrict, the main point of these exercises was for Nicky to learn how to escape and evade anyone who would be after her, should Treadstone be compromised or an asset decide she was an enemy.

This was their third exercise of this kind, the last two times he had caught up to her quite fast but Nicky was like a sponge she absorbed all the lessons he was teaching her and adapted very easily. He frowned when she disappeared from his sight and he failed to locate her. Increasing his pace his adrenaline began to pump as he looked for her. Walking up to the last point he had seen her at he searched the alley she had disappeared down, meticulously he went through every possible scenario in his head, correlating it to what he knew of Nicky's thought processes, personality and behavioral patterns. Suddenly, he turned around realizing that Nicky had not run down this alley she must have backtracked somehow. He smiled to himself, impressed by her resourcefulness he went back to the market and scanned the crowd. He almost missed her, she had taken off her brown cardigan leaving a white tank top on, she had also laced a serge green scarf around her neck and was now currently weaving her way out of the market, a basket of French cheeses, bread and wine on her arm.

Cutting her off at the periphery of the market, Jason clamped a hand on her upper arm and dragged her into a deserted doorway in the nearest alley. Slamming her against the door he brought both arms up against the wood, trapping her.

"Great job Parsons, you almost made it out of here."

"Almost doesn't keep me alive," Nicky said breathlessly.

Jason smiled, "A couple more of these exercises and I think you'll be more than adequately prepared."

Nicky grinned, "So what's next?"

"We try your hand at picking a lock… or three, my training retreat tomorrow is gonna be for a couple of weeks, so come on," Jason wrapped his hand around her elbow and steered her further into a residential area.

Nicky happily went with him; she loved spending time with Jason as well as learning some more tricks of the trade from such an accomplished teacher.

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18 April 2001

"Okay so what do you do when you've been blown and all the protocols and measures Treadstone has taught you don't work," Jason tested Nicky as he spread Camembert on his baguette.

They were sitting under an apple tree in an orchard in Provence, having a picnic lunch of freshly baked local bread, a variety of their favorite cheeses, cold roast chicken and cold steamed vegetables. Jason had also brought a cooler with a 6-pack of Heinekens answering Nicky's questioning raised eyebrow with an exaggerated wiggle of his eyebrows as they loaded the car back in Versailles.

"First thing I do is get rid of all technological devices that might help anyone pinpoint my location; cell phones, laptops, palm pilots, whatever. Next thing is to get myself a mode of transportation that won't quickly be flagged, like if I'm in France go for a common car model like Renault or Citroen… get myself out of the area or country… that's best…" Nicky was still panting and flushed from the martial arts work out Jason had just put her through.

Jason ripped some more bread and layering cheese on it thickly handed it to Nicky, "Good, but don't forget the golden rule, no habits, nothing that ties your off the grid behavior to the previous behavior before you were on the run. Constantly move… just get a simple story and stick to it. And just remember if something feels wrong it probably is, just get out, go somewhere else, start over."

Nicky nodded attentively; hungrily tearing into the bread she took a sip of the beer Jason handed her. Jason smiled at her voracious appetite.

"You eat like a horse."

"Thanks, what are you going to say next, that I look like one?"

"Not even, I think it's refreshing to see a woman be so uninhibited."

"Yeah well, like my Grandma Margaret always used to say, a lady is a lady but there's no reason to eat cute or to please other people, eating and food is for sustenance."

Jason chuckled at that, "The more I hear about her the more I feel like we would have gotten along like a house on fire."

Nicky tilted her head, studying Jason thoughtfully, "You know you two probably would have. She didn't like chatter; she was a straight shooter, always to the point."

Jason smiled, his eyes tearing away from her so he could assess any changes in their security situation in the field. He felt very warm and fuzzy inside, spending time with Nicky and the feeling freaked him out because he worried it would make him miss something. In fact it often served to make him so tense he would vigorously work out after he left her, reassuring himself that he was still on the ball.

"Well in the spirit of straightforwardness, eat up, we can't linger here, it's too exposed."

Nicky looked away from him surveying the landscape and not reading a single threat in their situation. Mentally shrugging away the need to express her doubts about them being at any risk, she quietly turned her attention to their picnic. The light-hearted banter of a few minutes ago had dissipated, leaving a slightly sour feeling in the pit of Nicky's stomach. It was so easy to forget what Jason was, but whenever she did, something would happen to remind her that this was not a man to plan a future with or to hope for anything more than living in the moment, in fact it was debatable if he was a man at all, oft times behaving more like some kind of AI/Cyborg than a human being.

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31 May 2001

Jason flipped Nicky over his shoulder and she landed on the training mat with a thud, when he lifted his foot to stomp on her stomach she grabbed it with both hands pushed it away, simultaneously reaching up to karate chop him in the groin. Jason recoiled, stumbling down to his knees his face contorted in pain.

Nicky sat up and went to go help him; he swept her feet from under her and rolled on top of her, one hand at her throat. Nicky freed one hand stuck her finger in her mouth and jabbed it in his ear. He rolled off her, and covered his eyes, laughing harshly to himself.

"I can't believe you just gave me a wet willie! You… are something else Miz Parsons," he remarked incredulously.

Nicky sat up, crossing her legs Indian style as she watched him laugh, she found herself grinning in response to his glee.

"You're Canker Worm's best you don't think I am stupid enough to believe I can win by fighting fair do you?"

Jason laughed then his body spasmed as the pain radiating from his balls reminded him that her fighting strategy had its advantages.

"No, I don't think you're stupid. You're a smart cookie… and you've definitely got a sadistic streak. Last time you elbowed me in the neck and I lost my voice for a few days, I had a hard time explaining that one to Danny Zorn."

Nicky hid her face in her hands and tried to stifle her growing mirth. Jason, sweat dripping off his face, and unbidden tears of both pain and pleasure glistening in his eyes, laid a hand on her knee and squeezed gently. She dropped her hands and looked down at him, stringy strands of blond hair partially shielding her flushed face. Man she blushed prettily, even when it was out of embarrassment or exertion, Jason mused to himself.

"You told me not to hold back when we train," she whined plaintively in her defense.

"I know, and I'm telling you that its good but I'm starting to realize you're much more dangerous than I thought," Jason replied indulgently.

Nicky stared at him in shock; he was genuinely tickled by her! Jason squeezed her thigh again, his eyes dancing merrily.

"Nicky?"

"Yes?"

"Would you be a doll and get me an ice-pack for my poor bruised testicles?"

Nicky's eyes swept down his frame to his groin which he was cupping protectively in his curled up pose. She scrambled to her feet and ran to the mini-fridge where Jason kept an ice-pack on hand. Running back to him she knelt next to him and pressed it into his hand, her fingers gently brushing his inner thigh as she withdrew it. Jason winced and Nicky thought it was because he was hurt, her eyes worriedly searching his face. He did not have the heart or the strength to tell her he had winced because he'd found the light touch highly erotic.

"I'm so sorry!"

He waved away her apology, "Don't be, I find these sessions highly encouraging. No one's ever going to take you down easily."

"Unless they poison me, shoot me from a distance or plant a bomb in my car or apartment," Nicky said dryly.

Jason fixed a stern look on her, "Not if I have anything to do with it."

Nicky looked into his eyes, she felt like she was drowning in the blue depths that reassured her that not only did Jason Bourne care about her but he meant what he said. It was hard for her to stop her heart from skipping a beat in excitement. He tore his eyes away from hers and using his left hand he pushed himself up into a seating position, the ice-pack and his right hand firmly pressed between his thighs.

"Come on, you can clear this room up while I let the ice work its magic. I wanna see you wipe down the room for prints, hair and skin samples, the works. And concentrate, last time you wiped it down you missed a couple things," he said briskly.

His eyes swept the room; then returned to hers when she did not move. Nicky squared her shoulders and got up her expression unreadable. There was no way she was going to let on that she already felt utterly bereft of the warmth they had shared moments before. That she hated it when his walls came back up and he went back to being Jason Bourne trained assassin, without a second thought as to what it did to her.

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28 June 2001

"So Lee tries to get up out of bed and totally face-plants on the floor, I'm wetting myself laughing my fucking head off and he's groaning in pain. It took me something like five minutes to finally calm down enough to realize that he was bleeding and had broken his nose," Nicky recounted animatedly.

Jason observed her tenderly; they were sitting in the sunny atrium of a white clapboard house Jason had bought in Bruges. After giving Nicky a fake passport he'd ordered her to take a trip to Bruges as if she was on the run. Without asking any questions she had done just that, disembarking off a riverboat to find Jason standing at the quay waiting for her. He was impressed by the innovative way she had traveled, finding her by accident when he had gone to retrieve a little boy's yoyo by the water's edge. The trip was supposed to strictly be further training but Jason was beginning to find it very hard to go more than 3 weeks without interacting with Nicky on a personal level.

"Shit, what did you do next," Jason prodded.

Nicky who was ravenously eating all the custard Danishes Jason had bought for breakfast, took a sip of her tar black coffee and shrugged, a playful smile dancing on her lips.

"I cut off his duct-tape, tossed him some sweats and we took him down to the stables where Ben our main horse breeder, set it for him."

Jason's eyebrows went up, Nicky laughed.

"I offered to do it but Lee was spittin' mad an' fixin' for a Texas throw down, as they say in the South… don't laugh, I can set bones, I used to help Ben all the time with the horses, dogs… stray cats, baby birds-"

"I don't think a baby bird and a man's nose are the same thing, Nicky," Jason chuckled.

"It's not that different, a bone's a bone and if it's broken then it's broken," Nicky argued defensively.

Jason snatched the last piece of Danish from her finger tips and crammed it into his mouth. Nicky swore in outrage as he chewed it vigorously and swallowed it with a regretful shrug of his shoulders.

"Asshole."

Jason reached for her and Nicky bolted out of her seat running out of the atrium and into the house. Jason chased her half-heartedly, letting her escape into her room he banged on her door lightly then warned her not to come out if she knew what was good for her.

-------xxx

"Don't lift your heel! Dammit Nicky I said don't lift your fucking heel!"

Nicky let Jason overpower her and toss her against the wall, her head slammed against the door jamb and she cuffed Jason in the face with her elbow. He grabbed her hand holding it above her head.

"Damn you Jason go to Hell… that hurt," Nicky growled.

"I tell you to do something, you do it, if you lift your heel it screws up your balance and makes it that much easier to take you down, focus Goddammit… this is about real life, you won't get a second chance."

"Well I want more in my life than just learning about killing people, running away from people, breaking and entering, pick-pocketing and whatever the Hell else."

"Then you should leave Treadstone," Jason warned her as he released her, stepping away.

Nicky's brown eyes were swirling with anger, pain and something akin to despair as her chest heaved and she brought a tentative hand to rub the back of her head.

"Why do you always say things like that?"

Jason looked at her sadly, "'Cause it's true… you should know that better than me."

Nicky pulled away from the wall and walking into the living room, flopped on the chintz sofa that dominated the room. Jason followed her in, sitting down across from her on the coffee table. He clasped his hands together and studied her face. She looked him in the eye but her eyes were unreadable. Jason flinched internally as he realized that somewhere between her birthday last year and today, Nicky had honed that skill. He should have been proud but it left a bitter aftertaste in his mouth that she was using it against him too.

"We solve problems, Jason, and we're secure, Conkers hand-picked us all to make sure we were trustworthy and could keep a secret. I'm just logistics and a junior handler. I still get to live a life, covert as it is, but the qualifications I obtain, etc., will be real. Why-"

"Nicky, what happens to all black ops programmes sooner or later? They turn on each other; somebody makes a play for the crown and if you're lucky half the house gets cleaned the other half survives, and that's if you're lucky… and by _clean_ I mean _killed_," Jason was impatient and irritable with her.

Nicky bunched her hands into fists, "Not Treadstone."

"Are you sure about that?"

"Yes. We are different, we are making the world a safer place, we're part of the solution, not the problem."

"Then why did you agree to train with me six months ago?"

Nicky blinked, and then bit her lip, "Because I thought it couldn't hurt."

"Liar. You're a fucking liar Nicolette Parsons. You wanted to be trained because _you know_, you fucking know and have seen enough out there with your logistics and your computers and fucking clean-up crews across Europe to know that if _they_ turned their covert might on _you_, there wouldn't be a hope in Hell of you surviving with just your basic training," he leaned towards her and gripped her knees as he spoke.

Nicky's palm itched with the need to slap him, "And what? You think that with what you've taught me I'll live for… what? A day? Two? A week? I'm not like you Jason. If they send an asset like you after me how long till I'm dead?"

"You never know... if you disappear, stick to the rules I taught you, even an asset can't find you. Remember that."

"Jason-"

"Remember that! I'm not always gonna be around Nicky, my next mission could be my last, you _know_ that."

It was Nicky's turn to look sad, "Yeah I know, which is why if we aren't in a safe house or briefing or debriefing for a mission, would it be so bad if we could relax a little bit?"

Jason's brow furrowed in confusion, "What do you mean, we _are_ relaxing."

"No we're not… we've spent the whole day doing stuff, can't we just watch some TV for a couple hours?"

Jason turned to look at the TV like he'd never seen it before then looked back at her. Nicky looked at him hopefully, using the 'Cute Puppy' look that always worked on Lee. She knew before he did that he had capitulated.

"What did you want to watch the Belgians aren't well-known for their entertaining television," Jason challenged as he slid off the coffee table to sit next to her on the couch.

Nicky picked up the remote and turned the television on, channel surfing she settled on a sports station.

"Awesome… figure-skating," Nicky exclaimed.

Jason looked at Nicky then the TV; his expression was decidedly sceptical.

"Is awesome the right word?"

Nicky elbowed him lightly, "Yes, it is. Lee, Grandma Margaret and I used to watch this all the time when we were kids. Don't be so macho you might actually enjoy it."

Jason shrugged, then got up, "Well if we're going to watch TV, might as well pop some pop corn, and crack open the beer. I'll be right back."

Nicky watched him go, her heart melting all over again; it was so sweet of him to just go along with her request. The brief thunder-cloud that had hung over them completely dissipated. This was progress, the man wasn't as much of an automaton as he and Conklin liked to believe. Whether he would admit it or not he had brought her here so that he could relax, she was not getting A's in her Clinical Psychology for no reason!

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1 July 2001

Nicky watched the video feed of one of their Treadstone assets in Egypt getting blown up in a car bomb, for the second time. A piece of flesh had landed on the camera, obscuring the view of the street and the scene until it had fallen off.

"I don't want to watch it again," Nicky protested.

"Nicky you need to study this video so that you can assess the tactical situation from a logistics point of view," Conklin said harshly.

"I got it… the bomber planted the bomb somewhere to the left of the camera, judging on the traffic in the square he slid it under the body of the car, just above the rear left wheel. Anything else would have drawn unwanted attention. It was activated when Aziz reversed the car. The normal scan that Aziz ran over the vehicle didn't produce any results because it was a simple plastic device which detonated upon contact with the asphalt. Based on the direction the car was headed towards, should the bomb not have detonated or Aziz spotted the device he was directly in sight-lines from multiple angles, so he could be taken out by a sniper."

"And?" Conklin pressed.

"I need to make sure that assets have sufficient equipment to detect bombs, maybe give them cars or vehicles that can't be tampered with, at least not without them noticing… for starters anyway."

Danny looked impressed, Conklin looked mildly irritated as usual and Jason, who was sitting in an armchair in the safe house living room, looked like a lifelike wax doll, barely moving except for when he blinked or his chest rose and fell.

"Fine, you get yourself up to speed on all the new issues our assets are facing and make sure that when Bourne and I take a trip to Copenhagen tomorrow we get no nasty surprises," Conklin instructed her.

This was his way of dismissing her and with one last look at Danny, Nicky picked up her files and headset then disappeared into her office, firmly shutting the door behind her.

Ten minutes later Conklin was hollering her name, she hastily left her office, stumbling into Jason as he and Conklin made to leave the safe house. Bourne helped her steady herself then dropped his hands, and stepped away from her.

"We're leaving; you are going to man the fort because I'm taking Zorn with us. We'll talk when I get back; I'm going to have an assignment for you."

Nicky nodded in understanding.

"Come on Jason, Danny, we got a plane to catch," Conklin ordered.

Nicky watched them all leave, shooting daggers into the back of Jason's head for his summarily dismissive attitude towards her whenever they were at work. It was strange to think that less than 48 hours ago they had been laughing and having a good time in Belgium.

After she had managed to get him to at least pretend to be enthusiastic about figure skating in Bruges, they had watched Belgian reality TV until late then gone to their respective beds. The next morning, Jason had taken her for a scenic run, gently testing her on what she noticed from their surroundings, how many yards, feet and steps she had taken so far, how many for her to backtrack and escape down the alley next to the fancy bakery, etc. Satisfied with Nicky's responses, he'd treated her to Belgian waffles and vanilla ice cream for breakfast at an extremely popular and crowded patisserie. When they left Jason was amused when Nicky bought a large ice-cream cone dripping with chocolate sauce and refused to share it with him on the way home. He didn't really want any as it would interfere with his strict diet but he'd enjoyed trying to wheedle a lick out of her. Resolutely, she had categorically refused telling him he could have gotten his own.

They spent most of the day familiarizing Nicky with Belgian neighborhoods and noticeable mannerisms and fashions. Their cover story was that they were a French couple staying at a friend's house and debating on whether to move from Marseilles to Bruges. They got acquainted with some random people and even had lunch at a very popular local restaurant. Even when conversing alone they spoke in French and used their cover names. When they got back to the house, Jason had tested Nicky on all the things she had noticed and when she had proven to have an excellent visual memory and attention to detail, Jason had offered to watch more figure-skating with her to unwind. Nicky had laughed and thanking him they had decided to watch an hour of the competition then watch the hour-long double-bill of French dubbed 'Friends' then 'Sex and the City'.

That same night Nicky had boarded a train back to Paris while Jason stayed behind, wiping down the house before taking a bus to Brussels. From the capital he had boarded a train for France then Paris the next morning.

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2 July 2001

"Parsons! You're gathering your stuff to go home already but I've been waiting for you to ask me about my assignment for you," Conklin glared at Nicky.

"Sorry, I thought you'd tell me when you were good and ready… that's usually your style."

"Don't give me that smart mouthed backtalk young lady, especially when I'm about to give you two months off."

Nicky who'd crossed her arms across her chest, gripped her ribcage in order to suppress an effusive reaction.

"You're gonna give me two months off? Why?"

"Cause when you come back its gonna be a long while before you get another break… and since Danny will be going back to DC with me, Paris Treadstone assets will all be handled by you and you alone."

Nicky kept her eyes unreadable as she stared at Conklin, "Thank you Sir, I… I- I don't know what else to say."

"No need to thank me my girl, you've done really well here, better than expected, better than other people with much more experience in the Agency even. And the assets trust you… well as much as they can trust a handler, or anyone."

Nicky impulsively gave a little whoop of joy, leaned in and kissed Conklin on the cheek then realizing what she had done flushed in horrified embarrassment. The older man surprised them both by waving it away and making shooing motions.

"Well, go on girl, get your ass out of here before I change my mind" Nicky practically ran out of the safe house, "and have a good summer!" Conklin called out as the door slammed behind her.

He turned back into his office where Jason was sitting patiently, the asset's eyes did not give anything away but Conklin could tell that he had seen Nicky kiss his cheek.

"Yeah, I know you saw that, and don't worry when she gets back I'll talk to her about it, now zip it soldier, we have a mission to discuss."

Jason just shrugged mentally, thinking to himself that Conklin had no idea how badly Jason wanted to snap his neck because of that innocent kiss. Outwardly he did not show that he had heard Conklin mention anything other than the mission they had to discuss.

----------------------xxx

4 July 2001

Nicky walked out of Bangkok International Airport and scanned the crowd for familiar faces.

"Miss Juliet come with me por favor," Troy whispered frantically in her ear as he took her arm.

Nicky whipped around to look at Troy but he was practically frog-marching her through the arrivals. Once out of the airport and in a clean, relatively new dark green Nissan Patrol, Troy turned to Nicky to explain.

"You look pale and skinny; you need sun and good food Mami, not that pale, no taste European mierda, non?"

"Good to see you too Troy, but where the fuck are the others?"

"Lee? Oh he's at work in Nepal, it's just me," Troy chirped.

"No, I'm not talking about Lee, I'm talking about Tristan!" Nicky whacked him upside his head with ill-suppressed excited anxiety.

"He's at home, first I drive you around Bangkok to confuse any tres mal filho de putas then when I am sure we go to the house."

"But won't they know where your house is anyway?"

"Ay non, we don't live at the official house, you'll see Tia just be patient," Troy soothed.

Nicky rolled her eyes and fought the urge to punch him in the face and take the wheel. It would not do her any good seeing as she did not know where the house is.

--------------------xxx

"Hola Tio! Look who's here it's your Mamita!" Troy exclaimed as he swept into the house, Nicky stepping around from behind him as he was blocking her view of the marble floored kitchen.

She gasped in shock as she saw a little boy wearing tiny Dolce and Gabbana jeans and a white D&G t-shirt crawl towards them. His black hair which was big loose spirals was covered with a tiny hat made of the American flag. When he stopped at Nicky's feet and looked up at her with a delighted shriek, her heart stuck in her throat. She took in his startling blue-green eyes and cherubic face. This was her son and he was so happy to see _her_! She felt tears automatically spring up in her eyes.

"Come on Mami, pick him up! He's saying hola!" Troy prodded.

Nicky made an irritated sound at Troy, unable to tear her eyes away from her son, she bent down and picked him up. The baby touched her face with his chubby hands and smiled at her, grabbing a strand of her hair and putting it in his mouth.

Nicky laughed tearfully as she hugged the baby close, "Oh my God angel, you're so beautiful and you've grown so big!"

Troy looked on proudly, his own eyes watering a little at the touching reunion. Nicky studied the baby intently taking everything in and looking for any marks or scars. Finding none after her brief perusal she met Troy's eyes and they both shared a teary sheepish laugh.

Troy went to the fridge and pulled out two Budweiser's from the fridge, "Happy Fourth of July non?"

This time there were no tears in Nicky's laugh, "Oh God, yes, this already is the best Independence Day I've ever had!"

Troy shook his head sadly, "Poor Mamita, don't worry, we're going to Bali for one week, we'll tour Thailand's hidden treasures, then we go to Vietnam for the last month. Lee will join us in Bali then Vietnam, by the time you go back today will seem like nothing."

Nicky laughed feeling tears welling up in her chest again as Tristan, bored with her hair decided to press his open mouth against her cheek and nuzzle her.

"He's kissing me!"

"Si, there is nothing but amor and muy more amor here! Look at him he's wearing designer, his Papa Troy and Mamita are right here, why wouldn't he be happy?"

Nicky bit her lip to stop from crying, "I can't believe you've dressed him in D&G, and he's not even one yet."

Troy shrugged, "Just because he might grow up to be a heterosexual is no reason for him not to have a sense of style."

Nicky made a face at the baby and he chortled happily, she laughed, feeling the invisible weight that had been hanging over her drift away. She was far away from Treadstone and Conklin and Jason, she was back in the arms of those who loved her so totally and completely that she felt not only safe but happy. Her beautiful baby was in her arms and when she got back to Paris she would be promoted. Life was not perfect but it was pretty good right now.

----------------------xxxx


	4. Chapter 4 Elaborate Lives

A/N: Thank you to all the lovely souls that have reviewed this fic, and those of you who have silently added this story to your alerts. I am greatly flattered and appreciate you taking the time to read this!

I have used or at least am trying to use a different type of story-telling format in this fic, by having a lot of time jumps. I hope its working and the writing is not falling flat! I would love it if I could get myself somebody to beta this! *hint hint*

"_We all lead such elaborate lives, wild ambitions in our sights. How an affair of the heart survives, days apart and hurried nights. Seems quite unbelievable to me I don't to want to live like that, seems quite unbelievable to me; I don't want a love like that. I just want our time to be slower and gentler, wiser, free. We all live in extravagant times playing games we can't all win. Unintended emotional crimes, takes them out, take others in, I'm so tired of all we're going through, I don't want to live like that, I'm so tired of all we're going through, I don't want to love like that, I just wanna be with you, now and forever, peaceful, true. This may not be the moment to tell you face to face but I could wait forever for the perfect time and place. We all lead such elaborate lives; we don't know whose words are true. Strangers, lovers, husbands, wives, hard to know who's loving, who. Too many choices tear us apart. I don't want to live like that. Too many choices tear us apart. I don't want a love like that. I just want to touch your heart, may this confession be the start._"

**ELABORATE LIVES**

3 September 2001 – Labor Day

Jason watched Nicky as she talked to her close university friends, Louisa and Jacques. The trio were having coffee at a café in the Rue Montmartre, and whatever Nicky was describing had Louisa and Jacques listening raptly.

Jason felt a lightness in his chest just by knowing she was back and within his sights. He dropped his spy-glass and watched the blurry shapes of Nicky and her friends, struggling internally with the need to draw her away from the sunlight and back into the shadows with him. He fingered his cell phone, undecided about calling her on the untraceable phone he'd slipped in her handbag while she was chatting with Louisa on the Metro. Unconsciously his decision was made when he flipped his phone open and dialled her number using the speed dial.

Nicky stopped talking and started searching in her bag for the unfamiliar ringing cell phone. Jason and Treadstone had trained her too well for her to register surprise and that succeeded in diverting any attention from her as Louisa and Jacques chatted excitedly about going to Bali for their Christmas vacation.

"Allô?"

"You look good with a tan."

Nicky's heart rate accelerated, she had been back in Paris for less than 24 hours and already the source of most of her distress and pleasure had managed to track her down.

"Merci."

"Your figure looks fuller too, and your hair's lighter and longer, I think it looks good on you."

"Vous-êtes trés gentil, Monsieur Carcasonne."

"I don't think anyone can ever accuse me of being kind, and if they did and Conklin found out I'd be sent for retraining."

Nicky smiled at this, "Vous avez raison."

Jason felt himself smile as well, "Lose your friends; I will make contact with you in twenty minutes."

"Trés bien… Au revoir," Nicky spoke to a dead line.

Jason had hung up as soon as he'd given her his instructions. She was far too happy about her summer to bristle at his over-handedness.

-----------xx

"Come on, we're going to practice pick-pocketing during rush hour commuter traffic," Jason whispered urgently into her ear.

Nicky who had been about to cup his face with uninhibited pleasure at seeing him again bit her lip and took a deep breath. He was so infuriating, why couldn't he ever react or act like a normal human being? Keeping her frustrations to herself she went along with him and an hour later they were ensconced in a bistro in the Quartier Latin that served authentic Mexican food.

"You did well, it was as if you never left," Jason complimented her as he took a swig of his Corona.

"Thanks… so how was your summer?" Nicky asked hesitantly. She hoped that he would answer her question in good faith and not push her away.

"Busy, we had a lot of work to do."

"Well did you at least get a couple days off?"

"Here and there but I spent them training."

Nicky leaned forward, "You know a wise _old_ man once said that everybody needs to have a life of some kind outside of work."

Jason chuckled, "Did he now?"

Nicky nodded, "Yeah he did."

"Well, in that case, how do you feel about joining me in Dublin for a couple days?"

Nicky's eyes widened, "Me?"

"Yeah you."

"When?"

"Tonight."

"But-"

"I know you don't have to report to work 'cause Conklin told you this morning that you were free until next week."

"How do you- nevermind… but are you serious?"

"Yeah I am," Jason reached into his inner jacket pocket; taking out two tickets, he slid them across the table to Nicky.

She studied their aliases, Jean Luc Carcassonne and Denise Picard, he must have bought them after he called her, because she had never used that name for him before. They were for two nights and three days. Nicky contemplated the wisdom of going on another trip with him. It would most probably increase their chances of being spotted together. But she so desperately wanted to spend some time with him. It was ridiculous, she couldn't stay away from him no matter how bad he was for her and somewhere along the way she had developed this crazy idea that her presence and patience with him was the main reason he wasn't a complete wild animal. That somehow by spending time with him she was saving him from Conklin and himself.

Jason's body was relaxed but inside he was tense, wondering if Nicky was going to turn him down. And if she did, he was pretty sure he was going to find a way to forcibly make her come with him, somehow.

Soft twinkling brown eyes met his.

"Alright Monsieur Carcassonne, let's go find ourselves some leprechauns and a pot of gold at the end of a rainbow… or die trying," she whispered in excitedly.

Jason smiled in relief and then tossing a bill to cover their drinks, he took her hand and led her out of the bistro. They had just enough time to get to the airport with all of his careful safety measures in place.

------------------xxx

"It's breathtaking," Nicky breathed as Jason held up a rough uncut diamond that gave off a blue light.

They were both lying on the double-bed they were sharing in their suite, it was a little after dawn and Jason had woken Nicky up to drag her for a run. She had refused, burrowing her head in the pillow. He had gone alone then when he came back the need to show her the rock he'd 'found' during his two-week stint in Sierra Leone this summer had been so strong he'd woken her up so she could see it in the early morning light.

Nicky had gotten out of bed disappeared in the bathroom then come back five minutes later, her face washed and her teeth and hair brushed. Crawling back onto the bed she had looked curiously at the black velvet purse Jason was palming.

"You're getting sweat all over the sheets by the way," Nicky had said pointedly as she snuggled back into the covers and turned to face him.

Jason had dropped the diamond into his palm and Nicky had forgotten all about Jason's post-run sweat.

"You've had it all along right? Tell me you didn't find it out on your run because there can't be any rainbows at this time of the morning in Ireland."

Jason took her hand and put the diamond in it, closing her palm over it he smiled cockily at her.

"No rainbows but years from now you can tell people that's where you got it."

Nicky rolled her eyes, but smiled back, and then she studied the large diamond. If he was giving it to her he must have his reasons, Jason Bourne never acted on impulse. Her mind started to explore all the various possible explanations for this. Jason watched Nicky's inscrutable eyes study the diamond. He was now familiar enough with her and her veiled expressions to know that her mind was somewhere else. And despite all his skills he could not follow. He acted out his unconscious desire for her to focus all her attention on him; his hand coming up and stroking the side of her face. His thumb was gently but insistently pressed on her lower lip. She closed her fingers around the diamond and looked at him questioningly.

"What are you doing?"

"Living in the little moment," Jason breathed as he leaned over and pressed his lips against hers.

Her lips were warm and pliant under his but she did not immediately react. Her mind frantically trying to process the fact that everything she had long given up hope of Jason ever doing again was happening _now_. Jason's arm reached behind her and he drew her closer, pressing his entire length against her. This deepened the kiss, and suddenly Nicky came alive, her hands scrabbling up to tangle in Jason's hair as she pulled him as close to her as she could and kissed him back with everything she had.

Somehow Jason had almost finished undressing them both and was in the processes of showering Nicky's breasts with kisses when she remembered she had a tiny scar that someone like Jason would see and quickly deduce the cause. Before his hands could pull down her pajama bottoms, Nicky took charge, dragging down his shorts hastily she freed him from his boxers and straining towards him she let him push her pyjamas and panties down.

"Wait, we need a-"

Jason cut her off with the sound of a plastic wrapper being ripped open single-handedly; the other was braced on the mattress. Smiling at her seductively, Jason slipped the condom on and then pushing her back, slid inside her. They both gasped at the electric tingles of pleasures they felt at the initial contact.

Looking into her eyes Jason moved inside her slowly, pushing in and out in long controlled strokes. Nicky's hands clasped his already damp and sticky back convulsively, this was not Ecstasy fuelled sex but she felt like she was going to blow apart any second now.

"Oh God," her voice hitched.

"Easy Cherie, don't wimp out on me… not yet," Jason said as he ground his hips into her in a circular motion.

Nicky shivered as conflicting waves of pleasure overlapped each other. His fingers slid down to the space where they were joined and he pressed his thumb against Nicky's tiny swollen clitoris. She closed her eyes and Jason stopped moving.

"Open your eyes Sweetheart, that's it… Jesus Christ Nicky you could kill a man, this feels so good," Jason spoke huskily.

Nicky's nails raked down his back as his fingers skilfully worked their magic, her climax building and peaking, Jason gathered her close in his arms feeling his own release coming. He could not believe this, despite all the control he was capable of exercising, all the sophisticated women he'd had, he was losing it in the bed of an inexperienced 22-year old girl.

Afterward, Nicky held him in her arms and stroked her hands down his back soothingly. Jason's face was buried in her neck so he could not see the blissful smile on her face. When he looked at her she would hide it but until then she was going to allow herself to fully bask in the glow.

With one last drawn out shudder, Jason drew himself up on his elbows and looked down into Nicky's face. Her face was an interesting blend of erotic, serene and mysterious; he wondered how a mere slip of a girl managed to do that.

"Hope you're ready for the next round, according to my watch we've got six hours before you get on your plane."

Her smile was brilliant, "I'm ready."

-------------xxx

30 September 2001

Nicky looked at Jason across the table and internally sighed; she decided that she hated this job. Who else had to medically and now psychologically examine the CIA's best assassin who also happened to be her on and off lover and the father of her baby, while pretending there was absolutely nothing going on between them because said assassin was too well programmed to ever deviate much from his programming and actually express or experience emotions like a normal human being? Oh and also said assassin had no idea he had fathered a child with her either. Sweet Jesus it sounded like a particularly bad episode of _Days Our Lives_!

"I'm getting real bad headaches lately, it's been two and a half months now and sometimes when I take the pain medication you gave me I wake up and have no idea where I am," Jason explained.

Nicky gave herself a mental head-shake; this was important, "How many times has that happened?"

"What?"

"Waking up and not knowing where you are?"

"Twice so far."

Nicky noticed that sub-consciously Jason was blaming her for the side-effects of the medication, she scribbled on her note pad then set it aside; clasping her hands together she tilted her head to the side.

"I'm going to have to check your eyes; the flashlight I'm going to use takes pictures which I will then forward to our medical team in Langley. In order to do so I will have to touch the back of your head because we don't have all the proper machinery yet. Is that okay with you?"

Jason frowned at her as he contemplated her request then nodded curtly, giving her his permission. Nicky dipped her chin then stood up slowly, moving over to her medical equipment and locating the flashlight she approached him. Gently her hand cradled the back of his head, and she shone the light into each of his eyes, clicking on the little button that photographed his retina and pupils. When she was done, she released him and walked away, hooking up the flashlight to her computer she began the image transfer to Langley. Then picking up the special eye-drops she'd been told to administer afterward she approached Jason again.

"There are some eye drops I'm supposed to administer, may you lean your head back please?"

Jason obliged and when she was done, she sat back down in her seat. Jason blinked as his eyes focused on her.

"Are we done here?"

"Yes we are."

Jason got up and left. Nicky's head dropped tiredly, she had not seen Jason in private since they got back from Dublin. The attacks in New York had sent every single Director in government enforcement agencies on a security and protocol-obsessed rampage. Conklin had been working her over-time and then asset projects had sky-rocketed so Nicky was at the safe house daily for one reason or another. With each passing day, Nicky watched her tan and vacation sparkle fade in direct correlation to the growing size of the bags and shadows around her eyes. Thank God for concealer.

Conklin's special line rang; Nicky rolled her eyes in irritation, he was calling to find out how her appointment with Jason Bourne had gone. The man had been insufferable before but now he was like a controlling bear with a sore paw since the attacks.

"Parsons."

"Is he having the headaches too?"

"Yes he is."

"How bad?"

"He says he's been blacking out a couple times-"

"What!?!"

Nicky stifled a sigh, "Sir, I'm sending you the full written report in the next ten minutes."

"You better Parsons. He didn't look too tired did he? Is he getting enough rest?"

"Bye Sir," Nicky said through gritted teeth.

--------------------xxx

16 October 2001

"You look like Hell, I think the drugs are doing more damage than they are helping."

"Is that your professional opinion as Clinical Psych student or are you just taking advantage of the brief respite from being Conklin's mute lackey?" Jason practically sneered.

Nicky scowled, "Sorry I brought it up."

She got up from the mat where they had been practicing more self-defense moves, and stomped over to the mini-fridge. Wrenching the door open, she grabbed a bottle of water and opening it she gulped down half its contents in one swallow. Wiping a hand across her mouth she picked up her grey t-shirt and pulling it over her head she grabbed her black sports jacket and backpack off the top of the fridge. Without even looking at him she stalked across the room then punched the security code in the door so she could leave. Before she could step out he had pulled her back, letting the door slide shut again, the returning door had barely missed her nose.

"_Wait_… you're right, I do look like shit and I definitely feel like it 'cause I haven't been sleeping."

Nicky turned to face him; hesitantly she raised her hand, frowning as she smoothed a thumb over his brow. Jason's eyes closed and he leaned into her, relishing the feel of her soft hands on his face.

"I've told Conklin that the meds were wrong for you guys, that you need rest and to de-stress more than you need medication… I'm gonna push him harder about this tomorrow."

Jason struggled with himself, a part of him wanted to wrap his arms around her and just hold her yet the Treadstone training in him told him to push her away and make sure she never touched him again. Neither side ended up making the decision because Nicky sensed a change in his body language that sent warning bells ringing in her head. So she dropped her hands and stepped away from him.

"I'm gonna go…thanks for the workout."

He nodded silently, a foreign emotion choking him, he was not unwilling but unable to speak as he watched her go.

---------xxx

11 November 2001

Nicky sat in the safe house bathroom and let the last of her tears stream down her cheeks. 'Remembrance Day' also or more importantly the day Tristan had been brought into the world, a year ago today. Lee and Troy had told her they were going to throw a big, loud party to celebrate the baby's birthday, she imagined that they must be getting drunk and merry right about now. God she hated this. She wanted to be in Thailand with them, having a great time, feeling loved and secure. Actually with all the horror Nicky had seen and taken part in since she had returned to work in September, she would give anything to feel positive about herself again. She would give anything to feel like she was a part of something healthy and purely good. Nicky would give anything to be someone other than logistician and clean up crew to the CIA's very own harbingers of death and destruction. It was becoming very clear to her that it was a never-ending cycle and when hers and Jason's and Conklin's time was up, other people would come and do the same jobs. Sacrificing their souls and personal lives on the altar of God and country and due to the nature of their jobs nobody was ever going to thank them en masse, at most they would get a star on the wall at Langley and that would be the end of it. This is not how Nicky had imagined her life at this juncture let alone her early twenties to play out.

With one last shaky half sob, she took a deep breath, scrubbed at her cheeks vigorously and then threw the tissue paper down the toilet. She had been in here for too long, she also had to face Conklin and coordinate a job for Jason and three other assets tonight. She gave herself a mental slap, slamming the door on her morose and troubled inner voice.

Nicky flushed the water, watching the tissue disappear before she went to the wash-basin and splashed cold water on her face. Looking at her puffy and blotched face in horrified shock she undid the professional chignon her hair was in and tried to use her hair to cover her face a little. There was nothing else she could do at the moment and she had a pile of paperwork and protocols to go through on her desk. With one last shaky sigh, she pulled her shoulders back and marched out of the bathroom.

"Were you crying in there Parsons," Danny Zorn's tone was mocking.

Nicky gave him the finger but he blocked her from moving past, "No wait, why were you crying? What's wrong?"

"Get the fuck out of my face Danny; I'm not in the mood for your shit."

Danny's hand shot out to stop her from walking away, "Nicky tell me what's wrong."

"Nothing, I'm on my period okay."

"No you're not, that was last week."

Nicky's breath came out in outraged whistle, "How the Hell do you know that?"

"Come on Parsons, we've been spending 18 hours a day together over the last 9 weeks, when you're on your rag you fucking eat 3 chocolate bars a day."

Nicky's face contorted in disgust, "The fact that you call it my 'rag' is reason enough for you not to ever speak to me about menstruation. In fact don't speak to me at all today."

"Nicky, seriously, I wanna help, just talk to me."

"Didn't I just ask you not to speak to me at all today? Get your hand off my arm. Now. Please."

"Nicky-"

"Let go of me!" Nicky yelled at him.

A door opened and they both turned to see Jason and Conklin standing in the hallway watching. Danny noted the dangerous glint in Jason's eyes and released Nicky immediately. Nicky snatched her arm away and stormed passed them all, slamming the door into her office.

"Danny in my office now," Conklin ordered.

Jason watched them go and followed Nicky into her office, she was sitting at her desk, fists clenched and staring blankly at her computer screen.

"What was that about?"

"Nothing," Nicky said through gritted teeth.

Jason shrugged then walked out of the room, had he stayed a few seconds longer, he would have seen bitter tears spilling down her cheeks.

---------xxx

"Wanna tell me what happened out there?" Conklin asked Nicky gently.

Nicky's face was stony, "Nothing happened. Danny saw that I looked upset and he cornered me in an attempt to get me to unload my burdens."

"And you didn't want to?"

"No, its none of his business, I'm a human being, I get upset, that's it," Nicky retorted defensively, her eyes daring Conklin to make a big deal about it.

Conklin leaned forward and squeezed her hand, "If you're sure there's nothing else I need to know, we'll leave it at that."

"Thanks… thank you Sir, if that's all I need to get back to coordinating tonight's assignment," Nicky said politely.

He let go of her hand and rose from his seat; when he opened the door he turned back to look at Nicky. She looked so small and defeated, her face determinedly set. An unfamiliar feeling of guilt assaulted him. It struck Conklin that despite all the hard work she did, and the dangerous people she dealt with, Nicky was a little more than a kid. These last few months especially had been hard on everyone; he couldn't imagine what it must have been like for her. Some days Nicky, Conklin, Bourne and Sacha, Treadstone's deadliest female asset had spent over 30 hours at a time together in the safe house.

Jason walked up to Conklin and gestured for his boss to follow him. With one last look at Nicky, Conklin made a mental note to himself to give the girl some time off, then shut the door behind him.

-----------------xxx

13 November 2001

Using her special handset for calls to Lee and Troy, Nicky impatiently waited for the line to be picked up on the other end.

"Hey Mamacita, how are you," Lee asked cheerfully on the other line.

Nicky felt a reluctant smile tug at the corners of her lips, "I'm fine how are you guys?"

"We're good, hey, you're just in time, the Little Man's still awake, he was refusing to go to sleep. Must be a sixth Mommy-sense that told him you were gonna call. Hey kiddo, come and say hey to Momma."

A gurgling baby's voice came on, "Mmm… mmm…"

Nicky gripped the handset tightly in her hand, "Hey Sweetheart, how are you?"

"Hola," Tristan said over the line.

"Oh my God baby! Did you just say your first word?"

"Hola! Ay non!" Tristan said clearly over the phone.

Nicky started to laugh and cry at the same time, covering her face with her free hand. She heard Tristan say something else and then Lee was back on the line.

"Hey Pumpkin, you okay?"

Nicky nodded silently, unable to speak.

"Are you nodding your head? Oh Baby Girl, Tristan's got a real word vocabulary of fifteen words… half words, he's got about forty, I think the English-Spanish combo has slowed it down cause sometimes he talks in sentences where I can only understand half of what he's saying. Troy understands him completely, which is so annoying-"

Nicky took a deep breath, "Oh my God, that's amazing…"

"Yep! I've taken some pictures and videos for you. I'm storing them in a safe place and next time you come visit the Little Man's gonna be talkin' your ear off."

"Is he walking now?"

"Has been for two months, started walking just after you left actually."

"That's great! Give my love to Troy. I've gotta-"

"Hold on honey, Tristan, say bye bye to Momma."

"Buh bye… te amo!"

"Bye bye baby, I love you too and very, very much."

"Buh bye, te amo! Mwah," Tristan made a kissing sound.

Nicky bit her lip and hung up the phone. She had heard Lee taking the phone back but she did not think she could handle hearing any more about Tristan's leaps and bounds in baby development since she left.

Wiping her wet eyes, she stared at the TV screen dully trying to suppress the eviscerating pain ripping through her.

The sound of her pimary cell phone ringing made her jump, staring at the handset for a second she hesitantly flipped the receiver open.

"Versailles Gardens, ASAP," Jason ordered then hung up.

Nicky rolled her eyes and considered not following his command but she had already stood up and was heading for the bathroom so she could fix her face before she went to meet him.

----------------------xxx

"In case you haven't noticed everything's cloak and dagger in my life these days and I don't need any extra intrigue. So what's this about? If it's training, I'm really not in the mood. I just wanna sit in front of my TV and watch hilariously bad reality TV shows until I fall asleep, preferably with half a bottle of vodka in my hand." Nicky said as she sat down on the bench in the shaded wood.

Jason gave her a measuring look, "Can I join you?"

Nicky shook her head, "Not unless you can find us a TV, a sofa and a bottle of vodka somewhere secure."

Jason chuckled, "Well you've still got your snappy comebacks."

"That wasn't snappy and it was barely a comeback."

"That was."

Nicky shrugged.

"You look drained."

"You look like you haven't been sleeping."

"It's the headaches."

"We've changed the medication though, and you said it was helping."

"That's 'cause I'm tired of being poked and prodded at about them," Jason explained patiently.

Nicky frowned as she thought about this, "That makes sense."

"Nicky is there anything going on between you and Danny Zorn?"

"Danny!? Not if you boiled him in bleach first," she wrinkled her nose in disgust.

"What about Conklin?"

Nicky turned to look at him and let out a mirthless chuckle, "You're fucking kidding me right?"

Jason was satisfied by what he read from her body language, "No, it was a serious question."

"Why would you even ask me that?"

Jason couldn't bring himself to tell her that he had been ready to snap Danny's neck and break Conklin's hand off for touching her the other day. That would raise all kinds of questions and issues he did not want to deal with or want Nicky thinking about.

She wanted to confront him further but she had become an expert at reading his body language. He would not respond well to being challenged right now.

"Go home Nicky, get some rest."

Nicky knew when she was being dismissed, "You too, at least try and get a few hours of sleep, get drunk if you have to."

With that she rose from the bench and walked away, not looking back. Jason Bourne was a grade-A jerk and it was very clear to her that somehow, without really thinking about it or realizing on a conscious level, she had fallen in love with him. But Nicolette Parsons knew a hopeless cause when she saw one so she was not going to waste her time waiting for him to love her back. It was not quite clear if he was capable of it, and if he was would it be something she wanted from a man who was up to his knees in blood? Since she came back from her vacation, Conklin had returned to Paris and the assets had all been put on a tighter leash. Their performance enhancing drugs had been increased, there was more training, the missions had not only increased but become more dangerous, the whole thing was a nightmare. And Nicky could see that the Jason she actually liked was getting buried deeper and deeper inside Conklin's $30 million dollar weapon.

------------------------------------xxx

20 December 2001

Jason watched Nicky kiss her friends good-bye at Charles De Gaulle Airport, then she set her shoulders and melted into the crowd. He tried to follow her but he lost her in the press of people, finding her again at the taxi rank. He flagged a cab and got in directing the driver to follow Nicky's.

When she pulled up at the public library, Jason followed her into the building. Nicky walked in slow measured steps then she stopped suddenly between two large bookshelves, turned and socked Jason in the face. They tussled for less than a minute, then Jason having successfully restrained her, hauled her backwards, away from any possible passer-bys.

"Hey, it's okay. I'm not trying to hurt you. Relax okay?"

Nicky nodded stiffly then Jason released her. She took a deep breath the look in her eyes hostile.

"I thought you were an assassin trying to kill or kidnap me," Nicky said with a shaky voice.

"No, it's just me."

"You were there at the airport," Nicky stated flatly.

"Yeah I was."

"What do you want Jason," the exasperation in her voice was reflected in her face.

"I know you're working on your dissertation so you can't go home-"

"Not that anyone there would care or notice but yeah, what's your point?"

"Thought you and I could spend Christmas together," Jason's voice was so matter-of-fact Nicky's haughty demeanor slipped.

"In Paris?"

"No not in Paris."

"Then where?"

"If you agree, you'll just have to trust me and be surprised," Jason said with the beginnings of a grin.

Nicky's heart thudded desperately in her ribcage; she took a couple of deep breaths. He was going to spend Christmas with her! This would be their first chance to be almost normal since Dublin. What if he wanted to continue the sexual part of their relationship? She knew she wanted to very much. She just loved to be with him. Was she admitting that to herself now? Yes, yes she was.

"Surprise me," Nicky said at last.

Jason beamed at her and she beamed right back.

"Will do," Jason stroked a knuckle against her cheek then taking a step back disappeared in the multitude of shelves.

Nicky shook with suppressed emotion, feeling her knees weaken she leaned against the book-shelf and gulped in breaths of air. What was she doing agreeing to going to some undisclosed location with Jason? Since Dublin she had found his moods to be darker for longer, his temper was tightly controlled as if he was worried he would fly off the handle at the slightest provocation. Even the handful of times they had trained since then he had been harsh and demanding, not even capable of the light-hearted banter she had become so accustomed to. Just last week he had told her to use her fake passport to get out of France and then return using a different one. When she had asked why he had told her to just do as he said. She had returned and he had told her everything she had done wrong, apparently he had followed her to Stockholm tracking her every move. Finally Nicky had snapped at him to tell her at least one thing she had done right and Jason had merely looked at her before drawing their meeting to a close. He had left after giving her one last piece of advice; "Practice running using various passports so that when you need to use them for real you have some sort of history that does not raise suspicions."

Prudence or paranoia had forced Nicky not to reveal to Jason that she had some other travel documentation and property he did not know about and that she was going to take his advice to heart and make sure her other passports were also going to get some practice use when he was not looking.

-------------------xxxx

**A/N:** The chapter title and excerpt at the beginning is from the Original Broadway Cast Soundtrack for Aida.

Two-thirds of this story was already written when I first posted and I was hoping to determine the direction I was going to go with the unwritten part from your reviews but y'all aren't giving me very much to use in that regard!

A reviewer expressed concern over Nicky drinking beer during her pregnancy, please don't think I am advocating alcohol abuse during pregnancy but I know quite a few people who have done so on recommendation from "elders" and it has not adversely affected their pregnancies or children as long as it is a few drinks here and there.


	5. Chapter 5 Miseducation of NP

**A/N:** WARNING!! There is some sexually explicit acts and suggestion in this chapter, that may disturb/titillate/or both some of y'all!

**THE MISEDUCATION OF NICOLLETE PARSONS**

23 December 2001

Jason watched Nicky as she stared around her in awed wonder; she looked like a kid in a candy store. He had to admit that aesthetically, the square looked like a beautiful fairytale. They were in Munich in the city's main square and the city council had dispatched itself admirably with the elaborate decorations. All the buildings twinkled with hundreds of lights, the gothic architecture combined with the softly falling snow reminding Nicky of an adult version of the enchanted gingerbread house in Hanzel and Gretel.

The street they were walking down was full of bakeries and chocolatiers, there were men in traditional Bavarian dress, lederhosen included, selling roasted chestnuts and home made chocolate-covered bon-bons. This meant there was a permanent scent of milk chocolate, cinnamon and roasted nuts in the air.

"This is incredible Jason," Nicky gushed, looking up at him with warmth.

He felt a knife stab in his heart at the unguarded look of affection in her eyes and he wished fervently he could keep that look in her eyes forever, but already he was beginning to get antsy just by being in the square. They were far too exposed. And Nicky's melting looks could weaken him, putting them in jeapordy. Even if the threat probability was low he did not want to risk being made for no good reason except sentimentality.

"How about we get you some more chocolate and go back to our hostel?"

"Ooh, can we get the ones with hazelnut and nougat in them? I'm addicted already," Nicky exclaimed grabbing his hand and dragging him to a stall that was selling the treats.

Jason fought the urge to dig his feet in and drag her back to their hostel. He had brought her here to cheer her up and spend some time away from the dark cloud of Conklin and Treadstone, it would only make her feel worse if he ended up being violent or difficult.

-----------xxx

"So you're saying what exactly?"

"I'm saying that I'm beginning to appreciate the merits of figure-skating! That triple-axle jump is really hard to pull off, so if you can do that I don't think it should really matter that you're wearing the world's tightest leggings," Jason explained with a chuckle.

Nicky rolled her eyes at this and took another swig of beer.

"I like snowboarding, cross-country skiing and all extreme water sports but there is a grace and an art to figure-skating that those other sports don't have."

They were lying on their bed in the hostel, Jason had moved the night-table around the room and they had joined the two single beds to make one big one. After their foray into the Munich evening, Jason had bought them a small keg of local beer and they had returned to their room to drink it. They had hotdogs made out of bratwurst on their way back and now Jason sat with his back against the headboard while Nicky lay horizontally across the foot of the bed, sporadically chewing on pork beer-sticks as they drank. She had also eaten the first 23 chocolates in the December advent calendar Jason had bought her.

"Whatever but those guys definitely stuff their tights and I think _that_ is the real reason you love figure skating so much," Jason provoked her with a mischievous twinkle in his eye.

Nicky threw her beer stick at him and he caught it and popped it into his mouth. Nicky made a face at him and rolled over so that she was lying on her stomach. She was watching him as he poured more beer for them both.

"Oh don't think you're smart Herr Dietrich, I know what you're doing!"

"What am I doing?"

"Getting us both very drunk, this beer is like extra-strong."

"And so what if I am?"

Nicky turned and accepting her beer from him rested her head in one hand, using her elbow to prop it up.

"If you are you should know that people with your anatomy usually find it very difficult to perform when they are over-intoxicated."

Jason chuckled drily, "I am not people and I definitely have never had that problem."

Nicky gave him a sceptical look as she took a huge swig of her beer, "When I get up to go to the bathroom, I better not face-plant like Lee did… I have a handy little derringer on me and I am not afraid to use it."

Jason's lips quirked, "I would expect nothing less Fraulein Billstein."

Nicky made a face; passing her beer to him she pushed herself off the bed and stumbled into the bathroom. Jason bit back a burst of laughter. He bet himself five bucks she was going to throw up and pass out tonight, or his name was not Jason Bourne. She must have eaten at least half a pound of chocolate today, plus the beer and the bratwurst they were bad combinations.

--------------------------------------xxx---------------------

24 December 2001

"Jason, I don't want to walk anymore, I feel sick," Nicky protested, digging her heels in as she tried to force Jason to stop.

"No, we're not going back to the hostel yet, we've spent all day there, we- _you_ need fresh air!"

Nicky made a face and Jason continued to drag her down the street. The air was biting and the beautiful street decorations of Munich looked garish and nauseating to her tonight. A man hawking roast chestnuts waved a rolled newspaper cone brimming with the tasty treats under her nose. Nicky turned her face away and scowled when Jason chuckled and good-naturedly told the hawker in fluent German that Nicky had over-indulged the night before. The hawker, a big, bearded bear of a man, chuckled along with Jason his wide girth moving up and down like flesh-like slab of cement in a mixer. It took everything Nicky had in her not to show her aversion to the hawker.

Jason drew her in closer, wrapping his arm around her shoulders he leaned in to whisper, "Nicky, I have a surprise for you, now do you want your Christmas present or do you wanna go back to the hostel and wallow in your self-made Hell?"

Nicky's eyes had already lit up at the words 'surprise' and 'present', so she shook her head, "No, I would like my surprise, bitte."

Jason rewarded her response with an encouraging squeeze before he led her further down the road, his right-hand clamped firmly on her upper arm.

-----------------xx

"Oh My God Jason, this is… Oh My God, it's amazing!"

Jason beamed at her response. They were standing on the edges of a river that had frozen over and was currently being used by the City of Munich as an ice-skating rink. An orchestra played cheerful German folk songs and well-known classical music. Dozens of people were skating on the river, laughing and chatting amongst themselves. A young teen sidled up to them holding two large boxes in his arms; he set them down in front of Jason. Nicky looked on with interest as the teen gestured for her to sit on one of the wooden benches sporadically dotting the river bank. Doing as she was told, she watched as the boy opened the top box and produced a pair of green and red skates in her size with gold tassels. Her eyes raced up to meet Jason's and he inclined his chin, her smile was incandescent as the teen removed her leather boots and worked the skates on her feet. When he was done, Nicky reached out for Jason's hand, holding on tightly as he helped her stand. The teen took her arm and led her onto the frozen river, after a couple of tentative steps on the ice, Nicky let go of the boy's arm and skated across to the other side. Spying a spot with fewer people she glided gracefully over to it and practiced a couple of twirls on the ice, bright, exuberant laughter escaping from her lips.

Jason watched all this, hurriedly putting on his own skates; then he stood on the river bank drinking in her pure, unadulterated joy. He beckoned the teen that had brought the boxes with their skates to his side. Jason gave him an additional €100 to the fee he had already paid for the service. The boy took the money in awe of the generosity then picking up Jason and Nicky's discarded boots, handed Jason the token that would open the locker holding their footwear. Jason walked along the bank until he was standing in front of Nicky. She stopped twirling and watched him skate over to her with considerable skill. Masking her cynical thought processes that told her he could probably kill a man with one well placed side-kick to the throat, Nicky held out her arms and taking his hands silently led him on an exploratory circuit along the river.

They skated hand in hand along the river, Nicky picking up speed whenever the space was clear. She was laughing and Jason found himself laughing with her, the chilly air was refreshing and the orchestra provided a jolly musical ambience to the evening.

-------xx

"Time out Nicky, I need to sit down," Jason panted with a surprised chuckle.

They had been skating for over an hour and Nicky showed no signs of tiring. He was not tired himself but he was not used to this kind of physical exertion when there was no other purpose for it but fun. Jason checked his watch, he needed a drink, badly. Taking her hand he led them to one of the beer stalls along the bank. He bought them two warmed apple ciders and some apple streusel. They sat down on a nearby bench and devoured their food.

When they were done eating Nicky wiped her hands on her jeans and taking Jason's hand she led them back onto the ice. The orchestra began to play, 'The Blue Danube' and Nicky clapped her hands in delight. She glided away from Jason and executed a double axle, landing skilfully she curtsied to him. He clapped his hands in appreciation. She positively glowed as she skated back to him and rested her left hand on his upper arm.

"You know how to waltz right?"

Jason gave her a mock glare, "Of course I do, I can't believe you would even ask me that."

Nicky raised an eyebrow and placed her right hand in his left, nudging him to lead. When he did not and continued to look at her with mirth twinkling in his eyes, she realised he did not know how to waltz. So she lead and he followed for the first couple minutes before he took the lead having gotten the general gist of it.

"I knew you had it in you Gramps," Nicky teased.

Jason whirled them around rapidly and then dipped her backwards, "Can your Grandpa do that?"

She giggled, "He can do much more than that!"

Jason brought her back up and holding her closer whirled them around and around and around until Nicky gasped for him to stop.

"Okay, okay, I'm sorry, I take it back! You're not an old fogey!"

Jason grinned at her evilly as he swept her down the river, "Oh no, we're not done yet, don't want there to be any doubts in your mind."

Nicky bit her lip in excited anticipation, she had not thought he was capable of just letting loose like this, it was a whole new side to Jason and she was loving it.

----------xxx

They left the river just before midnight and started to make their way back to the hostel. Nicky picked up some snow and shaped it into a compact snowball, Jason realizing what she was up to, bent down and did the same. They pelted each other with snowballs all the way back, laughing as they went. Church bells heralding the stroke of midnight and the call for midnight mass, lent a timeless quality to the night. The fight ended when Jason picked her up and threw into a snowdrift, then shoved a bunch of snow down her coat. Shrieking from the cold and with laughter, Nicky gave up, yelling that he had won. Jason helped her out of the snow and they walked into the hostel arm in arm. Jason opened the door to their room and shut it behind them; he then carried out his usual checks to make sure they had not been compromised. With a satisfied nod, he gestured for Nicky to move away from the door.

"Thank you, Jason, I had an amazing time," Nicky thanked him breathlessly.

Jason smiled, "You've done good Nicolette, you deserved something more than work violence and training, it has been a difficult year."

She was secretly pleased that he remembered her complaint in the house in Bruges, and it touched her heart that he had made an effort to rectify his behaviour in consideration of her. Nicky stripped off her coat, gloves, scarf and red wool beanie hat, then drawing closer to Jason she undid his scarf before unzipping his winter jacket.

"For all of us, I know that your headaches are not getting that much better. Like now, you've got a bad one coming on."

Jason's eyes registered surprise, Nicky shrugged as she pulled his jacket off and tossed it on their bed.

"I see more than you think I do."

"I'm getting that," Jason said thoughtfully.

"Good, now as they said in the old days, take me to bed Jason Bourne."

Jason bent his knees and lifted her up in his arms, "Yes ma'am!"

------------xx

25 December 2001

"No! Come on we're leaving," Jason commanded harshly.

Nicky studied him worriedly, "Jason, its Christmas Day mass, I never miss it no matter where I am in the world."

Jason's nostrils flared and his mouth set into a grim white line as he pressed his lips together. They were standing outside a Catholic church, Jason's hand holding her arm in a bruising grip.

"There's a first time for everything, come on let's go," he didn't wait for her to respond, dragging her away from the church.

Nicky opened her mouth to protest again but the cold angry fire burning in his eyes warned her that she did not want to continue this argument now, in public. He forcibly propelled her forward all the way to their hostel. When they were in their room, Jason locked the door and turned angry blue eyes on her.

"I tell you to do something, and you do it Nicky."

"Why?! You're not my boss, you're not my Dad, or my husband… you're not even my boyfriend, why do I have to do anything you tell me," Nicky shot back.

"I brought you here, you're my responsibility, if I tell you to do something, you do it," his nostrils flared with anger.

"That's not a good enough excuse for you to act like some kind of cave man!"

"Lower your voice! And it's not an excuse it's a reason."

"Why?"

"Cause just the way it is. You never question me you just do it-"

"Or what? What will you do to me Jason?"

As soon as the challenge slipped past her lips Nicky wished she could take it back, Jason's eyes narrowed and his hands bunched into white-knuckled fists. He took a step toward her and Nicky backed away, her eyes showing her fear. He lunged for her, grabbing her arm and hauling her up when she fell backwards onto the bed.

"I've got the Cadillac of headaches roaring through my head right now, and you're challenging me? You sure you wanna do that?"

Nicky didn't dare open her mouth, she had never seen this side of Jason before; his eyes were filled with this cold, dark anger that sent icy fingers of fear skating down her spine. She kept her eyes on him forcing herself to breathe in and out.

"Answer the question Nicolette," he pressed unrelentingly shaking her. Nicky fell backwards onto the bed and Jason crouched over her, his knees planted on either side of her torso.

"If you're going to hurt me or kill me, do it now. If you're not then get off me and get a grip on yourself," Nicky said as bravely as she could.

They stayed frozen like that for a few seconds then Jason released her arm and lifting himself off her, took a step back, he raised his hands slowly for Nicky to see that he was not going to hurt her but she flinched all the same. His lips were still compressed into a thin white line as he took three more steps back. Nicky pushed herself off the mattress and skirted around the bed and keeping her eyes trained on him walked into the bathroom quietly locking the door behind her.

She ran the shower and sat down resignedly on top of the toilet seat lid. Jason's personality was going through some bad changes _that_ much was abundantly clear. And no matter what feelings she had for him, she was putting herself at unnecessary risk by seeing him outside of work. Granted their relationship was based on friendship more than anything else; last night and this morning had been the third and fourth time they had hooked up, but the Jason she had fallen in love with was disappearing under Conklin's tightened rein. And Nicky realized right then that it was getting more and more likely that with the way things were going, there could come a time when she would have to run and hide from Jason too. And maybe he had always known that.

Taking off her clothes, Nicky stepped into the shower, quietly reciting the Ave Maria in Latin as penance for being so blind and self-confident, she had foolishly believed that she could tame a wild beast like Jason Bourne and walk away intact and/or live happily ever after.

--------xx

Jason was lying on the bed, he had propped up the pillows so that he could keep his eyes on the bathroom door, and Nicky had been in there for over an hour. After the first 45 minutes she had turned off the shower, he had heard her moving around but since the room was relatively small, the number of things she could do in there was limited and he was quite sure she had exhausted the miniscule list.

His headache had ebbed and it was now a minor irritation in the back of his mind, his anger had remained but now it was targeted at himself. It was scary to realize that he could have beaten her earlier. The desire to do so had been there, the rage that clouded all other thoughts had been there too. Jason did not know what had stopped him and he was worried that whatever had stopped him today might not have an effect on him in the future.

Nicky was the only constant in his life that kept him relatively sane, and he was sure that what he had done or what he had almost done had damaged their relationship irreparably. He was going to have to face the possibility that this was the end of their friendship, that from hereon in she would only be doing the stuff Conklin had authorised her to do for him. That no matter how much he was going to need her in the future he would have to forget about her just like he had forgotten about David Webb.

The door opened and he sat up straighter in the bed; Nicky's eyes met his. They were veiled, he could not tell what she was thinking or feeling. The tension in her body told him she was apprehensive and ready to run from him if she had to, but no more.

The silence between them stretched for a few minutes, then Jason held his hands up in an act of surrender.

"I was wrong, and I was out of line, I didn't want to leave without you knowing why I had left, the room is booked until the 27th of December so… stay, if you want. Explore the city."

Nicky stared at him, her hand letting go of the door jamb she tucked her hands into her bathrobe pockets. She spied his small black travel case resting at the foot of the bed.

"So you brought me here to Munich…played the nice, considerate guy for a couple days, got tired of that and decided to revert back to the T-stone asshole and now you're just going to leave me here?"

Jason flinched, he had expected fear, relief even accusatory silence but he had not expected her to sound and look so _angry_.

"Nicky, I lost control."

"No… you didn't, if you had I would have bruises all over my body at the very least," she said matter of factly.

Jason tilted his head, curious with where she was going with this.

Nicky squared her shoulders and walked up to the bed, stopping right by his side.

"You're tense and you need an outlet… I get it."

"Nicky-"

"I'm only 22 and I don't have a catalogue of sexual experience or partners or whatever, but I'm your handler and it is my job to monitor your health and make sure you are well-equipped and secure for your missions."

She undid the sash of her robe then cautiously bent one knee on the mattress, leaning forward she lay her palms flat on the bed then crawled over to straddle a shocked Jason.

"I'm not on a mission now."

"But you'll be back in the field soon enough. We have two more days here, and for those two days, I will do whatever you want me to do and you can do whatever you want to me… its _my_ gift to you," she said gravely.

Jason's hands slid up her warm, damp skin, stopping to cup her breasts he looked into her eyes.

"Careful Parsons, there are urges bubbling under the surface that would scare you," he warned.

Nicky took a deep breath, keeping her brown eyes on him, "I'm not as innocent as I look."

"Yes you are," his fingers were caressing her nipples.

She let out a ragged breath as a flush spread across her cheeks, "When Danny Zorn told me about your mistress, Myléne, with her worldly sophistication, and adult…sexual umm-appetites… I was kind of disturbed, kind of curious but I didn't get it. Then today I saw another side to you-"

"Nicky I-"

"_Show_ me, Jason… I want to know all of you or as much about you as you will show me. I want to help you and… I'm a quick study," she looked into his eyes imploringly.

Jason studied the brown depths intently. Leaning forward he pinched her nipple simultaneously biting her earlobe neatly, then he pulled away to gauge her reaction. Her brown eyes seemed to burn with a fire he could not decipher, but definitely wanted to explore. He leaned in to kiss her lips and she met him halfway, their tongues tussling aggressively. Jason pulled away and dragged the robe off her, Nicky's eyes were heavy-lidded and she lunged at him, letting Jason roll her over so his body covered hers.

"When we get back to Paris, this stops, it ends… and I seriously start dating," Nicky said huskily as Jason's lips traveled down her neck, kissing then nipping at the flesh with tiny sharp bites before laving the bruised flesh with his tongue.

He bit the skin over her collar-bone particularly hard at her last words, she winced and he solicitously licked the rapidly discolouring skin. He also blew on it gently, sending chills of pleasure dancing across Nicky's body. Reflexively his arms tightened around her body and he brought his eyes up to meet hers, he realized she was not playing games and she was very serious. His body was burning with a fever she had started with her innocent eyes and eager actions, which made it very difficult for him to think let alone strategise how to deal with her statement. Choosing the only real recourse left to him, Jason simply nodded curtly; suppressing the primal instinct in him that said Nicky was his and no other man could touch her.

"Okay," he said tersely.

Her hands rested in his hair and she tugged on it gently, "Okay… so where were we Herr Dietrich?"

Jason pulled the sash off her discarded bathrobe and tied her hands together with it then tugged on the loose end of the sash; nodding with satisfaction when Nicky gasped at the tightness.

"Lesson number one, you always needs a safety word" he said as he flipped her over onto her stomach, his hands sliding possessively down her back.

------------------xxx

"What do you do when you're not on assignment?"

Jason looked into her eyes sombrely and shrugged casually, "I practice scenarios. I get myself odd-jobs and observe all the security risks and advantages."

"What do you mean?"

They were walking through a park in Munich, on the other end of the park was a taxi rank, once they got there, Jason was going to make sure she got a cab to the airport.

"Let's see… this year, I've worked as medical assistant in a hospital in Brittany, I've waited tables, bar-tended, driven a bus, washed hair at a hair-dresser's, been a shop assistant and packed bags at green-grocers."

Nicky was impressed and she threw him a measuring look, "So you never get any downtime?"

Jason hunched his shoulders a little, and then risked a glance in her direction, "That is downtime."

"No… its work."

"Okay, then I guess other than when I'm with you or Mylène no, I don't."

"I see," Nicky replied, keeping her eyes focused on the icy footpath they were navigating.

The mention of Jason's mistress made Nicky wince inwardly, the last two days had greatly piqued Nicky's interest about the woman but also made her fearful to know anymore.

"What do you see?"

"You… I see that you are totally focused on your job and nothing will ever get in the way of a mission… which is why you're Conklin's blue eyed boy."

"You say that like it's a bad thing."

"No… not really but it tells me more about you than your mission reports."

"What does it tell you?"

Nicky stopped and faced him, keeping her eyes pinned on his chin, "You're a determined man and you'll do anything and everything it takes to achieve success. Even at the cost of your own personal happiness."

Jason tilted her chin up so that her eyes could meet his, lips twisting into a wry grin, "Still not seeing what's wrong with that, I've got a job to do and I will do it to the best of my abilities."

"What about you? To what cost is personal happiness on the altar of work ethic?"

"Nicky, I joined Treadstone so I could protect and serve my country, my work is what I do… it's what I am. I don't need anything else," Jason explained indulgently.

Nicky fought the urge to recoil; instead she managed a wan smile and nodded in understanding.

"As long as you feel it's enough, then there's nothing wrong with it."

Jason wrapped an arm around her shoulders and started walking again, "I'm glad you agree."

------------------------xxx

10 February 2002

Nicky studied the surveillance photo of Mylène Laurier, the woman was stunning. With coal black, bone straight hair, the classic face of a model, grey eyes and legs for miles it was difficult not to feel like a dowdy disfigured dwarf in comparison. Her heart throbbed in pain, whatever she may feel for Jason Bourne, he obviously did not feel the same and was way out of her league.

The file Danny had given her on the woman said she had been a model, even holding the lofty title of the new face of Lancôme for a few months until scandal forced the company to drop her.

So this is the kind of woman Jason Bourne wanted, someone so very different from Nicky it was hard to believe that he had ever slept with her. The thought of her and Jason in bed together sent a frisson of anxious desire down to the pit of her stomach. The last time they had slept together was in Munich. It had been very educational and what she had experienced had taught her that the most risqué sexual deviations Nicky could enjoy involved light bondage, light spanking, a blindfold and a couple drops of candle wax at the very most.

Based on Mlle. Laurier's file, Nicky had been very lucky that Jason had chosen not to go too far from her comfort zone in Munich. She put the picture back in the file and closed the folder, stowing it on its usual shelf in the safe.

Munich had also taught Nicky some very frightening lessons about what she could derive pleasure from. Before that trip she would have categorically refused to do anything that did not involve rose petals and the three or four sexual positions she had practiced before. And even now, she was not sure how far she would go with anyone other than Jason. A tremor rippled through her body as she remembered her lesson in sex, trust and candle wax with Jason. Locking the office and she made her way down the stairs, her mind on Jason Bourne.

He had become much more volatile since Munich, when they got back to Paris, Jason had been sent on an assignment on New Year's Eve. When he returned he had been incredibly hostile toward her, not even contacting her for one of their clandestine training sessions until the 1st of February. When she had met up with him, he had been brusque and harsh on her. When she expressed concern over his behaviour he'd warned her to back off then ended their session. She had not seen him in private again since.

Nicky exited the safe house after carefully checking to make sure there was nobody watching her. As soon as she turned round the corner her cell phone rang.

"Allô."

"Louise, salut, its Jean-Paul."

"Hey, Jean-Paul!"

"I wanted to see if you had changed your mind about my offer earlier about going out for a meal with me."

Nicky thought back to Mylène's file and shrugged, "Actually, yes, Jean-Paul… I have"

"Vraiment? I mean really? Trés bien, this is very good Louise."

"I couldn't agree more, Jean-Paul, in fact if you're free today I would love to have dinner with you."

"Yes, yes of course. This is magnifique! Meet me outside the Louvres in twenty minutes, I promise you won't be sorry!"

Jean-Paul's excitement was a balm to Nicky's bruised heart and for the first time since her 1st of February training session with Jason she genuinely smiled, "Okay I'll see you then."

----------xxx

Author's post-note: I hope that wasn't too disturbing for y'all. I myself am not a practicer of S&M/bondage or whatever, but I have always thought that if anybody would be into that kind of thing it would be JB not David Webb necessarily but JB definitely and… I thought it would be interesting to introduce that element of his personality to Nicky even if it is not what their relationship or interaction is mainly about. Nor will this story constantly come back to that but I just wanted to put that out there, somehow.

Also you really have to blame the writers of the movies for this… that darn "it was hard for me with you" line really sent my imagination careening into outer space.


	6. Chapter 6 The Further Mised of NP

**The Further Miseducation of Nicolette Parsons**

2 April 2002

Jason sat up, gasping for air and drenched in a cold sweat. He had had the nightmare again. The same nightmare he had been having every day since they got back from Munich.

He dreamt he was standing on a cliff; the water below was a sparkling and inviting turquoise. The palm trees were an almost unnatural emerald green and the sky was a balmy blue. The air was still, a slight breeze gently stirring the warm air. Despite the beauty of the scenery he was not happy, and as he wondered to himself why he was unhappy, the crystal clear cloudless sky turned an inky gray. Black clouds unfurled over his head and the wind picked up, shrieking and roaring in his ears it stung his eyes. When he looked down at the water, it had risen to be almost level with the cliff. Somehow through the noise, he heard a gull cry and when Jason tried to locate it he spied a man in the water. Leaning forward to get a better view he realized the man was him but not him exactly, it was David Webb. He was clinging to a floating tree and calling out to Jason for help. Jason took a step backwards and the palm tree started to sink in the choppy waters. David Webb released the tree and tried to swim over to the cliff, his eyes mutely pleading for Jason to help, but waves kept crashing over him, drawing him back. Jason watched David fight the current for a long time until finally the other man tired and started to drown, their eyes still locked in silent conversation. Suddenly, Jason could feel the water burning down his lungs and he was coughing, wheezing and gasping in tandem with David Webb. The terrified feeling of drowning and the painful fight not to, always propelled Jason awake at the same point in the dream, except this time the dream had gone further because David Webb had stopped fighting, shuttering his eyes from Jason just before one powerful wave engulfed him and swept him away. Jason had still continued to drown on the cliff but David Webb's body had disappeared from view, leaving him to suffer alone. When his lungs began to burn so bad he thought he was going to die, Jason woke up.

He checked his wrist-watch, it read 2:02 a.m., he lay back in his bed and by sheer willpower forced his breathing back to normal. His head was pounding and he felt restless, like he had all this pent up aggression he needed to let out. He jumped out of bed and started to do push-ups. Two hundred would work out the aggression.

As he worked out, he thought of Nicky; the last time he had seen her she was strolling out of the Cathedral of Nôtre Dame with her new boyfriend, Jean-Paul Devreaux. The guy was tall and lanky with floppy brown hair and soulful dark brown eyes. He was a graphic designer but was obtaining an MBA at HEC. He had two little sisters and a twin brother who was studying medicine in Sweden. His parents were both teachers in an inner city school and they lived in Lyon. The guy and his family were so loving and supportive of each other they spoke on the phone for an hour every Sunday without fail. It was no mystery why Nicky was attracted to him. Jean-Paul was stable, safe and trusting. Three things Jason had not been since he became a Green Beret.

Jason speeded up; he was doing his push-ups in double time now, letting the air whoosh out of his lungs with a slight growl.

The pair had been dating for the last two months and it looked like it was getting serious. Jason felt a pang in his chest as he relived seeing them kiss before they got into their cab. He could admit to himself that he was jealous; no that was putting it mildly. Whenever he tailed the two of them he saw red.

The internal calculator in his head told him he had done one hundred and fifty push-ups, he glanced at his wristwatch; this was his best time yet. But the anger and tension in him seemed to be building instead of dissipating.

Nicky was his, how dare this usurper steal her affections away from him, with his wholesome family, gentle disposition and liberal ideas? Granted he had never made a move to show her he wanted her to himself but he thought it had been pretty obvious from what had happened in Dublin then Munich last year.

He let out a low groan as he reached 200 with no sign of feeling any better. Now his muscles and body were quivering with exhaustion, his body drenched in a satisfactory amount of sweat but his brain was just as switched on and sharp as it had been when he had started the push-ups.

Lying back, he decided to do 100 sit-ups; he glanced at his wristwatch to take note of his starting time. He thought back to those last two days in Germany and he felt his blood hum with a rush of emotion. Nicky had completely given herself over to him, staying true to her word; she had let him do anything he wanted to her. That very genuine act of submission to him and his needs had only served to endear her to him, curbing any extreme urges. Some of the things he did with Mylène came from a darkness and a rage within him, but with Nicky the darkness and rage dimmed; that smoldering furnace dying down to a single flame.

He stopped at 50 sit ups, and stared up at the ceiling in the darkness. Jason wondered if Nicky realised how much power she held over him. He flicked through the mental picture album of Nicky and his interactions that he had mentally snapped over the last two years. He did not see manipulation or dishonesty in any of her dealings with him. He finished the remaining 50 sit ups and glanced at his wristwatch. Three minutes and 10 seconds, not his best time. With that thought he stood up, padding into his kitchen he wrenched the fridge door open and drank a carton of milk. Then walking back into his room he pulled on some dark sweats and stealthily left the apartment. The only thing he could see or think of was Nicky. He was going to go and see her. They were going to talk, right now.

---------------------xxx

Jason scaled Nicky's building and hefted himself over the balcony's wrought-iron railing. Landing softly on his feet he noticed the French windows were open and Nicky had already hung up her summer curtains. White voile affairs with an elaborate lace design along the edges. He smiled tenderly as he imagined her painstakingly hanging the curtains up as soon as the weather had become warm.

Looking over his shoulder to make sure nobody was watching him; Jason stepped into the apartment, her bed was still made and untouched. A cursory search of the apartment confirmed that she was not there. She was probably at Jean-Paul's apartment, leaving the way he came, Jason headed for Jean-Paul's. When he broke into the younger man's apartment he strode towards the bedroom confidently then was brought short by the image of Nicky and Jean-Paul making out in the semi-darkness of his bedroom.

The joy and elation he had felt at the thought of talking to her drowned under the rush of fury that was engulfing his senses. How dare this Johnny-come-lately-asshole touch her and kiss her like that!?

---------------xxxx

Nicky's brown eyes were wide with shock and fear as she watched Jason smash his fist into Jean-Paul's face for the third time, she flinched when a sickening crunch told her Jean-Paul's nose was broken. Jason hauled a weak-kneed Jean-Paul up, his fists curled into Jean-Paul's jacket lapels.

"Please, ahh…I'm sorry! If you are her boyfriend… she told me she was single, I did not know-"

Jason's knee connected with the other man's mid-section, knocking all the air out of his lungs. Nicky was jolted into action, grabbing Jason's arms she tried to pull him off. Jason shook her off like she was nothing more than a troublesome fly. He kicked Jean-Paul soundly in the gut. Nicky without thinking threw herself on Jean-Paul before Jason could hurt him again.

"NO! Stop! Please! He didn't do anything wrong!" Nicky cried desperately.

Jean-Paul sputtered, blood spurting on Nicky's white t-shirt.

"It ends right now." Jason ordered, he towered over them, pointing a bloodied finger at Jean-Paul, tiny droplets sprayed both Nicky and Jean-Paul.

"Yes, yes!" Nicky agreed frantically.

"And he doesn't come back in your life, he comes back and I'll fucking kill him, I swear to God!" Jason was almost shaking with emotion.

Nicky nodded in panicked agreement, "Okay! Okay, never, now you have to stop and leave, please. Let me get him to a hospital."

Jason's eyes narrowed but he nodded his acquiescence. Nicky breathed a sigh of relief, it was hard to discern features or expressions in the dark of the room but she could sense that most of Jason's rage had abated. Without a backward glance, Jason exited out the front door, leaving Nicky huddled protectively over Jean-Paul.

"I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry… let's get you out of here," she whispered brokenly, her fingers feeling out his face for damage. Jean-Paul winced when she brushed against his broken nose. Nicky recoiled, getting up off the ground; she staggered over to the bedroom light switch, flicking it on.

The room was too bright in contrast to the dark their eyes had become accustomed to and they both blinked. Nicky opened her eyes and gasped in shock. Her white t-shirt was smeared with Jean-Paul's blood as was Jean-Paul's sky-blue shirt and face. His eyes had already started puffing up into two purple smudges while his nose was a bloody mess.

--------xx

4 April 2002

"So how's Wonder Bread," Jason asked casually.

Nicky squared her shoulders resolutely, forcing herself not to freak out on him as he sat next to her on a park bench by the Seine. She had just left Jean-Paul's hospital room and that sixth sense she had developed since meeting Jason had told her that he was watching, lurking in the shadows, so she had headed over to the river and an area that was safe enough for him to come out and talk if he wanted.

"You _broke_ his nose, _fractured_ his _jaw_ and cracked _three_ of his ribs, other than that he's pretty mad at me but at least when I went to see him today, he didn't kick me out on sight."

Jason continued to stare out at the river, stubbornly refusing to turn and face her.

Nicky threw him a disgusted glare and turned her own attention back to the river. She did not know what else to do.

"I don't know what came over me."

"Really?"

"Yeah really… I've seen you guys together before, I even followed you on your date to the theatre."

"Which one," Nicky challenged; she could bet her bottom dollar that he had followed them on all four trips to the theatre.

Jason grimaced, "_Aida_."

Nicky nodded sagely deciding to keep her own counsel.

"And _The Hunchback of Notre Dame_… and _Les Misérables_."

"I knew it," she breathed half in triumph half incredulous.

Jason shrugged, "If you knew I was there why did you go anyway?"

He turned to study her profile intently, Nicky felt herself flush guiltily.

"Why _wouldn't_ I," she retorted.

He continued his silent perusal of her face. Nicky fought the urge to squirm.

"To be honest with you… I wasn't going to let you ruin it for me," she said finally, the pointed silence had become unbearable.

Jason's eyes narrowed imperceptibly, his hands bunching into fists in his jacket pockets. Nicky kept her eyes focused on the river for as long as she could, the silence between them stretching tautly into infinity like a very long guitar string. The sound of her blood rushing through her veins as her heart pumped faster was positively deafening, she was sure Jason could hear it which made the silence even more unbearable. Finally she sighed in defeat and turned to look at him. His face and eyes were unreadable.

"Do you wanna tell me what happened? What the problem with Jean-Paul is?"

"It's not about Jean-Paul-"

The air was thick with undercurrents Nicky would be hard-pressed to distinguish let alone understand.

"Then _what's_ it about? I carried out some security checks on him and he was clean so I don't understand-"

"It's about you and me…"

Nicky held her breath, she had not expected that. She wondered if Jason was going to declare his undying love for her or something equally dramatic. Strangely enough her mind flew back to this morning and she wondered if she was wearing her good underwear. It would never do to remember this moment knowing she was wearing gray grannies or ripped panties. A nervous giggle echoed in her head and Nicky mentally slammed the door shut on her Ally McBeal-like inappropriate mental ramble.

"What _about_ you and me," she asked softly.

He focused his full attention on her, "I need you Nicky… I need you to keep me sane. When I'm around you the headaches are manageable, I'm more than Conklin's bestest, baddest most efficient weapon… when I'm with you I'm more than just a machine, not human like the Tin Man."

Nicky blinked, "Jason, you're not a Tin Man."

"Yes I am, you think I didn't see the way you looked at me in the park in Munich? Or the way Zorn is half-derisive, half-terrified shitless around me? Or the way Conklin treats me? Or the way you've looked at me other times? Like you all think I'm a machine."

Nicky felt a guilty flush creep along her face, "Jason, if I have made you feel like you're nothing more than a machine I'm _sorry_, I-"

"Never, Nicky… you've _never_ made me feel like I was nothing. Nicky, you… don't you get it? _You're _this Tin Man's heart."

Nicky's eyebrows disappeared into her hairline and her breath caught in her throat as she noted three things, one Jason Bourne had just made an emotional declaration, two the declaration had been made to _her_ and three, he had followed her and Jean-Paul to the _Wizard of Oz_ meaning he had been there at all four shows, she really was getting to know this complex man very well.

He watched her expectantly as she looked down at her folded hands then carefully let out the breath that she had been holding. Her eyes rose slowly to meet his and she shrugged.

"That's the second nicest thing anyone has ever said to me."

Jason scowled, "What was the first?"

"This guy came up to me in senior year and asked me if I wanted to "pluck"."

Jason's expression was dubious.

"I was the bass guitarist in a punk rock band and I was flat-chested, sarcastic and only 16 cause I skipped a couple of grades along the way. Nobody, I mean nobody ever expressed any sexual interest in me until the night we played _'London Calling'_… it was my official admittance into the world of teenagers," she explained with a self-deprecating grin.

Jason felt himself smile in response, Nicky's grin grew wider, a light breeze blew off the Seine, sending strands of her hair into her face and mouth.

"Fair enough," he chuckled in his best Cockney accent.

As if on cue they both burst out laughing.

-----------xxx

Nicky sat at her desk and thought about her conversation with Jason earlier. Her prime asset was in trouble that much was obvious. The headaches were getting worse, his mood swings, insomnia and excessive aggression were also escalating. His loss of control with Jean-Paul was the most obvious example but he had been sliding down this perilous slope for months now. She did not know what the other assets had been doing in their private lives but in retrospect, they too seemed to be withdrawn and surlier.

As much as she wanted to flatter herself about Jason's true motives in Jean-Paul's apartment two nights ago, or what he had said by the Seine, the truth was he was in trouble and she had not been as attentive to his or the other assets' needs because things with Jean-Paul had been going so well. With lead in her heart she picked up her cell phone and dialled his number.

"Allô?"

"Jean-Paul, c'est Louise."

"Ah cherie… I'm so heureuse that you are calling me, I'm sorry if I was angry with you earlier today, and I just wanted to tell you I don't care that you have another copain, I care about you very much and if you tell him to go…if you tell him bye-bye, I would like very much for us to continue… or maybe start encore, non?"

It took him a while to get all the words out and they were slightly garbled because of his injuries. Nicky bit her lip as feelings of guilt and sympathy stabbed her in the chest. Resolutely she forced herself to speak the words she was reluctant to say.

"Jean-Paul you're an amazing man, it means so much to me that you would be willing to forgive what happened but I can't be with you anymore, that guy, his name is Martin and he's my husband."

"Quoi!? I mean what? How is this possible? Écoute, Louise… that man is dangerous; we can call the police-"

Nicky's heart jumped into her throat, if Jean-Paul called the police, Conklin would have to know about what had happened. He would have her head on a plate that was for sure. And Jason, Jesus God, Jason!

"No! I can't, Jean-Paul and neither can you! He's my husband and I want to be with him. We were fighting so I thought you could distract me from our problems, or make him jealous. I'm so sorry, Jean-Paul, I lied to you, this is all my fault, I never meant for it to go this far. I-I-I wish you all the best… I'm so sorry, I have to go."

"Louise, je t'en prie, don't do this-"

"_Please_ Jean-Paul, _please_ accept my decision and respect it-"

"Accept your decision? Louise, this is crazy, you're too young to be married and-"

Nicky winced as she realized that this man did not even know her real name, had never been inside her apartment, Nicky had always had him escort her to the wrong door and had always come up with excuses why she could not let him in. He had not even met Jacques and Louisa nor had he been to her university campus. Nicky had lied that she went to a different one and had always gone to wait for him on his campus.

"Oh my God, Jean-Paul, I don't deserve you, I _never_ have."

"Louise if he's making you say these things its okay, listen, I will wait for you at our usual place cherie, and we can decide what to do. Our usual place, Louise I will wait for you there today and tomorrow okay?"

"You're not ready to leave the hospital yet and even if you they let you go, I won't come, we are moving to Canada where he is from… au revoir Jean-Paul," Nicky said with a frog in her throat.

"Louise-"

Nicky hung up the phone, bitter tears pricking her lids; going into autopilot she initiated the protocols for changing her address and phone number. If she did not turn up to meet Jean-Paul at their usual place, Jean-Paul being the romantic and upstanding citizen that he was, would call the police. That would cause all kinds of problems and raise all kinds of issues that neither Nicky, Jason nor Treadstone could afford to have. She was being over-cautious, she knew but since she had not and would not report Jason's assault she had to be. Also Nicky did not want to think about what the mission objective would be if Conklin or Jason decided they needed to deal with Jean-Paul.

"Conklin."

"It's Nicky Parsons, I think someone has been following me to my apartment, I've initiated a code orange."

"How long do you think it's been going on for?"

"Two days."

"Jesus Nicky, two days! When did you initiate code orange?"

"Five minutes ago."

"Christ! Get Bourne to the safe house now, he does not leave your side until I get a full briefing and I am satisfied, understood?"

"Yes sir."

"Good. I've just sent Bourne the message myself; he should be at the safe house in less than twenty minutes."

"Okay sir," Nicky was speaking to an empty line; Conklin had already hung up the phone.

------------------xxxx

20 April 2002

Jason watched Nicky as she practiced the scales on the beautifully polished white baby Grand piano. Dressed in faded blue jeans, a grey t-shirt and her hair pulled back in a low pony-tail, wayward strands of blonde hair forming a messy cloud around her bare face, Jason decided that she had never looked more beautiful or self-assured.

"What would you like me to play?"

Jason smiled at her gently, "_Clair de Lune_."

Nicky turned back to the piano and started to play, at first she was tentative, feeling her way around the keys but then she let her fingers and memory wander down the familiar trodden path and the music poured out of her with skill, expertise and passion.

Jason remained standing in the doorway of Nicky's new apartment; it was a studio with high ceilings and a Nouveau Art Deco silk screen dividing her bedroom from the rest of the apartment. It faced the east which meant the beautiful golden light of morning bathed the eggshell ceilings in a golden glow. The one of a kind Steinway dominated the place, it belonged to the landlord whose only condition to Nicky renting the studio had been to keep it tuned and take good care of it.

Unlike her old apartment, the studio was practically bare except for the Nouveau Art Deco bed frame, dresser, two-door wardrobe, lamp-shades and print paintings on the wall. Other than her clothes and her laptop, the only thing Nicky had added was the silk screen, the potted mint and coriander on the kitchen sill and the black and white picture frames she had put on the piano. Jason found the place charming despite his staunch efforts to be indifferent. It seemed to automatically and correctly reflect that Nicky had evolved into a more feminine and mature creature than she had been when she first came to Paris. His eyes rested on her graceful form and he searched his soul for any feelings of vestigial guilt over the events that had forced Nicky to move. Jason observed that he was unburdened by any feelings of remorse, mentally he shrugged with indifference.

The last few chords of the song reverberated in the studio as Nicky finished playing and brought her eyes up to meet Jason's. He smiled at her and clapped his hands three times.

"Your Grandma Margaret taught you well, that was fucking amazing."

Nicky blushed at the compliment, then brought down the lid on the piano. Getting up from the bench, she laid her palms flat on the tops of her thighs.

"So now that you've seen the place and are satisfied that I am a qualified individual to be tasked with the upkeep of this collector's edition Steinway can we go now?"

Jason shook his head, "Excited at the prospect of a training exercise in evasive and defensive driving… never thought I'd see the day."

Nicky threw him a mock glare as she walked towards him, shrugging on her black trench coat; she pushed him out of her studio.

"Well the day has come, so let's go."

"Yes Ma'am!" Jason replied smartly.

--------------------xxx

Author's post-note: So I was rewatching the **Bourne Supremacy **and saw that the file on Nicky had the alias she had been using in Paris as Corrine Deschamp. So for the purposes of this fic she has been calling herself Celina Corrine Louise Deschamp.

Also, I know this was shorter than the others, sorry! I have two more chapters left for the pre-**Identity** part of the story. Finished one just have the last one to go!


	7. Chapter 7 Fine Art of Falling Apart

_I walk alone and I  
I ride alone and I  
I rock myself to sleep  
Baby, there ain't enough room in this world  
For people like you  
And horrors like me  
**:....**_

_I stand alone and I  
I fight alone and I  
Stay clean by feeling cheap  
And baby, there ain't enough room in this world  
For perfection's like you  
And monsters like me - The Fine Art of Falling Apart, Matthew Good Band  
_

**The Fine Art of Falling Apart**

28 April 2002

Frank Castel was born Pietro de la Montaigne, his parents, Laura and Christiano had done everything they could to love him and his little sister Bianca. Even choosing to move from the Italian capital, Rome to the university town of Bologna. It was in Bologna that Pietro, feeling alienated and resentful because of the move, had fallen in with a gang of violent teenagers. Clever as always Pietro had hidden his new friends and their criminal activities from his family, excelling in school and then at university where he had studied Philosophy. Much to his Art History Professor father's pleasure, he had graduated with top honors. All the while, running with the crafty gang of men from his teens who were now the main muscle for the biggest mafia don in Bologona; he had dealt in drugs, auto-theft and occasional jobs that involved severely assaulting gamblers for the biggest bookies in town.

When he graduated from university, Pietro made his parents doubly proud by joining the Legionnaires, after two years with them he returned home to Italy Hell-bent on rising to the very top of the mafia underworld. His favourite philosopher, Niccolo Machiavelli's teachings ringing in his head, Pietro executed his plan to clandestinely rise to the top with military precision. Never once getting on the police or Interpol's radar, he had made great leaps and bounds in his chosen profession, as the top and most discrete assassin in Italy; until Bianca inadvertently got herself caught in the middle. Bianca had studied ballet at a famous dance school in Venice, coming back to Bologna just in time to ruin Pietro's underworld dreams by attracting the attentions of the leader of a rival mafia family based in Napoli. When his parents proudly told him sweet, lovable Bianca was going to marry Roberto Camara, he was so consumed with rage that when he went to confront Bianca, he lost control of himself, blacking out with anger as he exacted his revenge. When he realized what he had done, Pietro went to find Roberto and after coldly pumping a full magazine clip into the young man's chest, he briefly went to visit his badly injured sister in hospital. Any feelings of guilt were sublimated and he stayed at the hospital long enough to make sure that she did not finger him to the police before leaving Bologna and his family behind forever. In December 1999, now based in Paris and working as a part-time ski and snowboard instructor in the Pyrenées while he also studied for a doctorate in Philosphy at the American University in Paris, he had come across a recruiter for the CIA looking for a special kind of person. Pietro fit the bill of ambitious socio-path with no compunctions and an excellent military background. It was to neither the recruiter's or psychological evaluators surprise when he had promptly signed the dotted line that got him inducted into the exclusive club of assassins that they called Treadstone. In Central Europe and North Africa, where the newborn Frank Castel learned how to crawl, walk and run, there was no other man as deadly or effective. Except for a man named Jason Bourne, but as the two men were on the same side Frank decided to wait and see if he was going to have to take the matter of becoming assassin numero uno into his own hands or whether it would just resolve itself.

In October 2001, Castel was transferred from the Paris office to Rome and he had continued to deliver excellent results. Other than the money and the different personas he adopted to do his job his next favorite thing about working for Treadstone was Nicky Parsons. With her poise and wisdom behind her years, fresh faced appearance and soft brown eyes he found her fascinating. She was like an untouched flower amidst an overgrown patch of thorny weeds, radiating a light he wanted to first bask in before extinguishing completely.

He had not been happy about the transfer until he found out that she was still going to be his handler, traveling to Rome twice a month to carry out her duties unless he was in Paris on a job.

So far, he had kept his unhealthy interest in her to himself, lightly teasing her whenever they met before getting down to the business at hand. Sometimes he brought coffee and pastries for them to share and she always politely thanked him for the thoughtful gesture.

In January 2002, Castel had seen Nicky meet her mother at the Fontana di Trevi in Rome before they had gone for lunch in one of Italy's most famous restaurants, La Montecarlo near the Piazza Navona. The older woman barely resembled her daughter; petite, curvy and clad in Chanel from head to toe, her platinum blonde hair cut in a chic French bob, cool green eyes and haughty patrician nose explained to Castel more than words ever could where Nicky got her poise and admirable self control. The woman was an American blue-blood if he had ever seen one and it did not look like it could be easy being this woman's daughter.

To add more to an increasingly intriguing mix, as Castel followed Nicky and her mother, he had spied somebody else following the pair, and while they ate lunch Castel had inched closer to this other person to find it was none other than Jason Bourne. Jealous anger flamed in Castel's chest as he thought of Conklin's best trespassing on what he perceived as his territory, Nicky Parsons was his! The American asset had not noticed Castel watching him, so the unguarded look of yearning and wistfulness that crossed his features when Nicky and her mother embraced briefly before they went their separate ways was logged and catalogued as ammunition for a future date. When Bourne turned in Castel's direction the asset was already gone. A plan on how to kill two birds with one stone germinating in Castel's mind as he tracked both Bourne and Nicky from a distance.

28 April 2002

Nicky and Jason were at a William Ronis expo in Paris, wandering around the room separately they gazed at the iconic black and white photographs in appreciative silence. Nicky was wearing her black kidskin Gucci jodhpurs under dark blue Roberto Cavalli jeans, a white silk blouse and a matching jean jacket. Her honey blonde hair was in a side ponytail that spilled over her right shoulder. Her black Dior saddlebag gave her the right kind of artistic credibility while showing off that she was affluent. Jason was dressed in a black Prada suit and sporting a muted sapphire blue tie. They were the right kind of people who would not draw unwanted attention in the gallery.

The idea to come to the gallery had been Nicky's but the only way she had managed to convince Jason was to propose they use their visit to the gallery as a training exercise. He had agreed, telling her the objective would be for her to pick out all the suspicious looking people in the room. After she had done so, she was to track the most suspicious one after s/he left the gallery. Thirty minutes of surveillance later Jason would contact her with the next instructions. It had taken every shred of willpower Nicky had not to roll her eyes in irritation after he had given her his instructions. She just wanted to drink some good wine and admire some fine photography, dammit. She berated herself for not having chosen somewhere else to do this with Bourne and then come here with Louisa and Jacques.

Nicky watched the striking redhead in a little black Gucci dress and Manolo Blahnik satin pumps. Her Fendi purse glittered under her right arm as she set her glass down on an empty tray and made a quick exit. With an internal sigh, Nicky waited a few seconds before she followed the woman. As soon as she was out of the gallery, Nicky watched the redhead hail a cab, taking a beat, Nicky removed her jacket and pulled off her sleeveless silk blouse to reveal a black Lycra vest. She discarded the two items in a nearby trashcan and as she loosened her ponytail, hailed a cab. She directed the driver to follow the cab in front; pulling a thin wool black sweater from her saddlebag, she pulled it over her head then wrapped her hair in a black silk scarf.

Jason, who had been engaged in a conversation with the 97 year old William Ronis himself, made his excuses and quickly followed the two women.

Unbeknownst to him, Frank Castel who had been lurking in the shadows outside the gallery, detached himself from the awning he was waiting under and tailed them too.

Thirty minutes later, Nicky had followed the redhead to a dimly lit parking garage under a Cabaret where she exchanged the contents of her Fendi bag with a scarred-six-foot-five Russian. After the transaction was complete the Russian had pulled out a gun, the redhead knocked the gun out of his hand before she kicked her heels off and started to run. Nicky continued to follow, carefully avoiding the likely corners where a security camera might capture her image; she was hoping she could help the woman when strong arms wrapped themselves around her chest like bands of steel and hauled her back. One hand rose up to clap around her mouth before she could scream.

"Shh… Nicky it's me!" Jason whispered frantically in her ear.

Immediately she stopped fighting him and watched in helpless horror as the Russian tackled the woman to the ground. She fought spiritedly for a few minutes before he overpowered her and producing a silencer from the depths of his black coat, pumped two rounds of lead into her chest then one in her forehead. Nicky sagged against Jason in horrified silence, for all the work she did and the people she dealt with, this was her first time to be so close to someone's death. The Russian looked around and seeing nothing, disappeared behind a door a few feet away leaving the redhead's corpse staring sightlessly at the ceiling.

As soon as Jason released her, Nicky fell to her knees and vomited, when she was done, Jason hauled her up to her feet and led them away swiftly. As soon as they were out in the open and far away from the Cabaret, Nicky fought Jason's hand off her arm and turned to glare at him.

"We could have helped her!"

"No we couldn't have. If we had helped her, you and I would sure as Hell have gotten involved in revenge killing spree with the Russian mob, that guy was Grigory Ivanov. He's the Russian mafia's best assassin out of Kiev, and he always gets the job done."

Jason explained patiently.

"So why have me follow her?"

"I didn't tell you who to follow Nicky, you trusted your instincts and picked her as the most suspicious looking person. Great job by the way," he said the last bit with pride.

Nicky's face froze, she could not believe how callous he was being about that woman's death.

"Jason, we watched a woman die, gunned down in front of us and we could have helped her, doesn't that bother you at all?"

Hands in his pockets, he shrugged, "She was obviously very good at whatever she did and rather well known to be dealing directly with Grigory so… no."

Nicky closed her eyes then opened them again, the brown orbs which had been accusing a moment before where unreadable as she nodded grimly.

"So can I take it that class is dismissed for tonight?"

Jason nodded; Nicky nodded too then pivoting on her heel walked away from him.

It was then that Jason's sixth sense told him somebody was watching and he walked in the opposite direction to the one Nicky had taken so he could catch their silent stalker. Castel realized what Bourne was doing merely a split second before Jason caught him. The instant reflex was enough time however for him to pull on his black woollen ski-mask. When the two came face to face a quick fist fight was all it took before Castel ran away from Jason, successfully evading the faster and deadlier assassin in the crowded Metro. Jason backtracked to the alley where he had found Castel watching them and noticed the other man had dropped his pager. With a bleak smile he headed for his personal technological geek associate, Zorro, he knew he would have the stalker's identity within a day.

30 April 2002

Nicky lay in her empty claw-foot tub and listened to the loud strains of Edith Piaf coming in through her wide open windows from the apartment across the street. She was wearing faded jeans and her dark blue FDNY t-shirt. Her mind was still trying to erase those monstrous helpless few minutes when she had watched Grigoriy Ivanov murder the redheaded woman. According to a local newspaper, the redhead was Jana Martinescu, well-known in the criminal underworld as a trader in all commodities; humans, drugs, diamonds and a State secret or two when it came her way. Nobody was going to mourn her passing, except her family in Romania and Nicky. She let out a pained sigh as she thought back to how nonchalant Jason had been about the whole thing.

He was turning into a monster, whatever calming effect she had had on him was no longer working, that much was clear. Nicky had given him everything she had, mind, body and soul but it wasn't enough, and _she_ wasn't enough. She had to accept that. She had to accept that she was losing him; she also had to accept that no matter how much she loved him she was not prepared to accept the man he was becoming.

Covering her face with her hands Nicky took deep gulping breaths, why was it always easier to love a man like Jason in the movies and in the books? Why was it always so much easier to stay with a man like him then too? How come all the things men like Jason did always had a romantic and altruistic quality in the movies? Everybody always rooted for 007 even though on another scale he was a misogynistic sociopath and a murderer. Yes, he did it for Queen and country but it did not change who he was or the fact that almost all the women who ever ended up in his bed also ended up dead, evil, were used as a pawn or all of the above.

Nicky and Jason had gotten away with it so far but how much longer before she got caught in a web too large for her to escape? She had Tristan, Lee and Troy to think about. If anyone ever figured out who Tristan was it would not end well for him, Lee or Troy, and was that really how she was going to thank them for doing something she had been unable to do? Love, shelter, protect and nourish her son?

Nicky pulled herself out of the tub and sat down at the piano, pushing up the lid she played the scales for a few distracted minutes as her life so far flashed by in a montage.

Without thinking she began playing, Beethoven's, '_Moonlight Sonata'_, halfway through the song, tears raced silently down her cheeks as she remembered the laughter in Bruges with Jason, the joy in Thailand, Bali and Vietnam with Tristan, Lee and Troy, the laughter in Dublin with Jason followed by the blood and horror after the attacks on the Twin Towers. There was Munich, then Rome with her Mom, then dating Jean-Paul, then Jason assaulting Jean-Paul, breaking up with Jean-Paul, moving in to this studio, training with Jason, then last night. Fittingly, the song ended as she relived that final gunshot piercing through Jana Martinescu's forehead. She stared at her hands on the keys then brought them up to shakily wipe her tears, sniffling a little, she got up from the stool and after bringing the lid down turned around to come face to face with Frank Castel.

"Buona serra, Nicola, the way you play the piano is bellisma." Castel punctuated the last word by kissing his gloved fingertips.

Nicky's heart thudded in her chest as she looked around the studio wildly; she noted that Castel must have come in through the windows she had opened when she got home. The windows he had closed firmly shut, pulled the blinds over and drawn the curtains across. Ice inched around her heart like a creeping vine wrapping itself around a trellis.

Castel, dressed in a black Armani suit with a black tie, circled her like a lion stalking its prey, slowly reaching into his pocket he pulled out a black ski-mask and donned it. Nicky took a step back and then bumped against the piano stool, the sound of it scraping against the floor startling her. She forced herself to breathe in and out normally; maybe he just wanted to talk to her. It would not do for her to show fear. Castel carefully tucked the ends of the mask into his shirt collar, giving Nicky a half-apologetic, half-macabre smile, the only parts of his face visible now were his eyes and lips.

"Nice apartmenta, I came in here this morning and my thorough search revealed nothing that suggested that you are sleeping with Jason Bourne." Castel stated silkily.

Nicky's eyes widened in shock, her mouth going slack as she tried to think of an adequate response.

"Probably because I am not sleeping with him."

Castel's eyes flashed as he studied her, within two swift strides he was standing in front of her, gripping her chin with one gloved hand he brought her face up and perused it carefully. Nicky's hands instinctively curled into fists at her sides.

"Tsk tsk, Nicola, you're lying."

"I'm not."

"Well, maybe you are not sleeping with him at the moment but you have in the past. He looks at you, he stalks you and he touches you like something that belongs to him… in every sense of the word."

Nicky's breath came out in a frantic whoosh, "I don't know where you got that idea from but-"

"January 26th 2002, you were in Rome with your mother la donna Michelle Antoinette Astor Parsons. You met at la Fontana di Trevi then went to have lunch at La Montecarlo."

Nicky gasped in surprise, Castel smiled at this.

"I was watching you and so was Jason Bourne. I followed him as he followed you after your mother left. I followed him, follow you all the way back to Paris. I thought maybe it was just a, how do you say… ah, one-sided attraction on his part until I saw you and him together, the way you look at him when he is not paying attention, you wear your heart on a sleeve, piccolina."

He said the endearment tenderly, rubbing a leather-covered knuckle down her cheek as he wrapped a strong large hand around her arm. Nicky let out a shaky breath, she was truly beginning to appreciate the precariousness of her situation here.

"What do you want?"

"Ahh… I wanted you for so long until I realized that you had been claimed by another. So now I want to play with you for a little while before I return you to him. You see he's only attracted to you because you're mysterious and innocent. I wonder how much he will care once the petals of his precious flower have been crushed and bruised."

Blades of fear skated up and down Nicky's spine as she noted the solicitious silky tone of his voice did not correspond with his words or his eyes. She knew a crazy person when she saw one and this crazy assassin was in her studio, alone with her.

The element of surprise was the only thing she had going for her so very swiftly she brought her forehead closer to his and head-butted him as hard as she could. He yelped in pained surprise and Nicky, using both her fists, punched him in the solar plexus while sweeping one foot out to trip him. Castel fell backwards and hit his head on the floor. Nicky ran for her purse which was hanging on a hook behind her front door, and started to unlock the elaborate safety mechanism that was meant to keep people like the psycho behind her out.

Just as she undid the bolt of the last lock, Castel grabbed her blonde ponytail and threw her backwards. She landed against the piano which made a protesting twang, one edge digging into her back. Castel sneered beneath the mask, advancing towards her with a deadly intent in his eyes.

"You wanna play rough? Fine with me as long as we play!"

Nicky pushed herself off the piano and threw herself out of his path, rolling on the floor and pivoting to face him in the ready stance. His sneer grew more scornful as he approached her and punched her in the face. She staggered backwards but didn't fall, shaking her head she used her purse to whack him in the face with it. He caught the purse and using it as leverage yanked her closer to him. Nicky hooked her nails into the black mask and raked her nails down his face. Castel backhanded her in retaliation. She closed her hand into a fist and punched him a number of times, he caught her fist and threw her against the claw-foot tub. Nicky had the wind knocked out of her as her chest made contact with the edge, she spat out some blood and rolled onto her back just as Castel came close. She planted both of her feet in his chest, kicking as hard as she could. He fell backwards and Nicky heaved herself away from the tub, half-running half-limping towards the front door. Castel grabbed her left ankle and wrenched it, she fell with a shriek of pain and he crawled over her. Turning her over Castel looked into her pain-filled eyes and gave a harsh short laugh. His lip was bleeding, the mask had a few rips on the left side of his face where Nicky had scratched him and a burgeoning black eye on the right side.

"The little sister, doe-eyed routine won't work with me. Do you know why?"

Nicky shook her head. His eyes lit up at her silent admission and he leaned down to whisper in her ear, "I raped my sister."

Nicky's eyes were brimming with tears as she thought of what Jason had tried to tell her and then remembered what Conklin had _actually_ said. Jason! He was on assignment in London, he would be back too late to save her! Conklin and Danny were in the States, she was on her own here.

Castel began to undo her jeans, Nicky thought of Tristan and instantly her fear turned into rage. She loosened one arm and karate chopped Castel in the neck. He choked on his own saliva, his blue eyes instantaneously tearing up. Nicky took advantage of the slackening of his grip on her to press her thumbs into his eyes, she was going to blind him or die trying. He roared in pain, rearing up and away from her. Nicky crawled away from him and got up, ignoring her injured ankle, she limped determinedly to the kitchenette and reached for a copper saucepan. As soon as her hands closed around it, Castel was swivelling her around to face him. With both hands Nicky swung the saucepan at his face, yelling with rage and satisfaction when she heard something crunch. Bringing the pan back around she hit him in the face a second time then ducked his flying fist and ran towards the door. She opened it and burst through, trying to make it to the stairs when he hauled her back into the apartment. His hands around her throat stopped her from crying out. Nicky was starting to suffocate as he held onto her like that while he locked her door. Lifting her up with his right hand, Castel drove one fist into her stomach with his left. Nicky crumpled to the floor as he released her throat.

He then picked her up with one hand when Nicky tried to fight he wrenched her right arm out of its socket, dislocating her shoulder. She screamed out in pain as he hauled her towards her bed. Throwing her on it face down, Nicky kicked out blindly with her legs. He caught her injured left leg in his hands and wrenched at it. Nicky felt her knee make a sickening separating sound and she cried tears of pain, frustration and rage. Castel rolled her over and finished unbuttoning her jeans. With one brutal yank he had dragged them off her, leaving them pooled at her ankles where they would prevent her from moving. Nicky pushed herself up on her good arm and spat in his face, screaming all the obscenities she knew in Italian, French and English at him.

He laughed in her face as he pushed her backwards onto the mattress and started to unzip his own trousers with one hand, while the other was placed firmly on her chest to stop her from moving too much. At the sound of the zipper Nicky found a burst of energy from somewhere and head-butted him again, this time in the mouth, forcing him to bite his own lip. Blood spurted over her as she reached back for her lamp on the bedside table and brought it across the side of his head with her good hand. That managed to daze him, so she threw herself off the bed and crawled as best as she could to the front door, hauled herself up onto her feet and grimacing from the twinges of pain shooting up from her left ankle and knee, speedily unlocked it again. She could hear Castel bearing down on her as she yanked the door open and hurtled out of the studio for the second time. The jeans pooled at her ankles tripped her up and she fell with a screech of pain. Crawling down the hall, she made it to the top of the staircase and was about to go over the top stair when he caught her. Nicky resisted his attempts to pull her away and used the momentum to fall down the stairs, taking him with her. As they tumbled down the stairs she heard her left wrist snap as it bore hers and Castel's weight. Nicky cried out as they stopped at the bottom of the stairs, his body covering hers.

"Stubborn putana, you'll give it up to the enemy but not to me. You're chatso. I told you before Bianca, if you're gonna sleep with the enemy you should suffer the consequences!" Castel screamed at her his hands sliding around her throat to throttle her.

He raised his fist and punched her twice in the face. Nicky's body jolted like she had been shot, her head swimming and her vision too blurry for her to figure out which way was up let alone defend herself. They were lying on the landing of the second floor; it had two apartments both of whose tenants were away until July. With the loud music coming from across the street nobody could hear them. Castel continued to rapidly undo his trousers, freeing himself from his boxers. Nicky saw this and began to whimper.

"Jason!"

"Is not here, he's on assignment so we will not be disturbed." Castel reminded her cruelly.

Nicky said Jason's name like a mantra, praying to whoever was out there to hear her and save her from Castel. Her tormentor slapped her soundly.

"Don't say his name or it will go even worse for you, piccolina."

Nicky whimpered again but continued to repeat Jason's name. Everything was happening so fast but it felt like it was taking forever. She felt Castel part her inner thighs and screamed in fear and loathing.

"I will kill you, I swear to God if it's the last thing I do, I will kill you! JASON! Somebody! Help me! Au secour!"

Castel laughed a mirthless laugh, "You are just like Bianca, fighting when you know it is useless, she didn't fight as much as you did of course…but it does not matter, I broke her anyway."

Nicky fixed a deadly glare on him, "I'm not your sister, and this is not history repeating itself. Jason will kill you when he finds out, and if there is a God I will get to watch."

Castel stopped laughing and slapped her again, blood spurted from her nose but she did not cry. Holding her chin up, Nicky thought of her mother and what she would think of her daughter being raped like a 'commoner'. She glared at him from her one good eye. An icy calm descended over her as she made the decision not to let him see her fear.

"Get on with it," she said in her most glacial tones. Michelle Antoinette Astor Parsons would be so proud!

His eyes widened in surprise, then he recovered, his swollen lips curling slyly. Castel's masked face loomed over her as he got ready to do something Nicky never thought would happen to her, she forced herself not to cower, turning her face away from him she prayed it would be quick. Just then Castel's heavy weight was lifted off her and she heard him make contact with the door to apartment number 4 with a satisfactory crash. Nicky blinked in disbelieving shock as she watched Jason Bourne kick the ever living shit out of Frank Castel. He had come! He had known somehow she was in trouble and come to her aid! Nicky had never been more overjoyed at Jason's complete disregard for the rules when it came to the asset/handler relationship, than she was right now.

Ten minutes later it was all over, Jason tossed Castel down the remainder of the stairs and came over to Nicky's side. She was trying to push herself up but failing, her dislocated arm just as useless as her broken wrist. Jason knelt behind her, leaning over he tried to assess the damage, gently pulling her up into his arms.

"I've got you Nicole, I've got you. Let me see," he spoke soothingly.

Her breath hitched in her throat and she did not think she was capable of speech. Jason took her silence as acquiescence and gently probed her dislocated arm. She bit her lip and her body tensed but she did not make another sound. Jason held her up and sat her against the banister. Taking her dislocated shoulder he looked into her eyes ready to explain what had to happen. Nicky looked into his eyes and for once was grateful that there was no telltale human emotion in them.

"I know what you have to do, just do it please," she said hoarsely.

With a clipped nod, Jason grabbed her arm and popped the shoulder back into place. Nicky screamed in pain, tears leaking out of her eyes involuntarily. She took in big gulps of air and rode the excruciating pain out. Sitting up to lean against the banister she met Jason's intense blue eyes for a second before they went back to following his hands as he methodically searched for more broken bones other than her left wrist. He found her sprained knee and ankle and seeing that nothing else was broken he brought his eyes back to meet hers. Castel groaned in pain at the bottom of the stairs and Jason cocked his head, she silently gave him the go-ahead and he got up. Surprising Nicky, he picked her up in his arms and carrying her back upstairs to the studio, he sat her down in the only armchair.

"I'll be right back," he reassured her as he left the apartment and ran down the stairs.

Nicky nodded to the empty room before taking a deep breath, forcing herself to stand on both of her feet, ignoring the bad ankle. Biting back a yelp of pain she located her purse and using her special line to Langley called Conklin.

"Conklin!"

"Sir, it's Parsons. Somebody broke into my apartment and assaulted me. He's wearing a mask but I think he may be an asset."

"WHAT!?! When!? How? Where is he now? Where are you?"

"I'm still in the apartment, Sir. Bourne just got here and overpowered him, they are… fighting downstairs. I'm initiating a code white Sir."

As Nicky spoke she was already texting the code and her address to the Treadstone cleanup crew in Paris.

"Jesus Nicky, how badly did he hurt you?" Conklin sounded stressed.

"Not too bad sir, he broke my wrist, dislocated my shoulder, I've got some bruises here and there but I'll be okay." Nicky said briskly.

"How the Hell did Bourne know to get there!?" Conklin asked in belated surprise.

Nicky's heart plummeted to her toes as she realised what this could mean for all of them.

"I don't know Sir, maybe you can ask him and while you're at it you can find out how two of our assets know my private address," her voice was dripping with icicles.

Conklin let out a breath of frustrated air, "Okay Parsons, you've done well. I'm on my way to Paris, until I get there, you do not to debrief anybody, get the guy contained, and stay there with Jason until I arrive. You tell the clean up team nothing and you do not, I repeat you do not speak to the French police. I'll be there in a few hours."

"Yes sir." Nicky said sharply then hung up.

She fought the urge to brave the pain and hurl the phone at the wall.

Getting up painfully, Nicky limped to her front door; she stopped by the door as her cellphone beeped. Answering it she confirmed her personal identity code and affirmed that yes, she had initiated a code white. The head of the clean up crew told her they would be at the apartment in less than two minutes. After she hung up Nicky realized she wasn't wearing any pants. She stared down at her bruised and scraped thighs, knees and legs, the jeans had come off at some point in her struggle with Castel on the stairs. Her ankle was almost the size of a jar of pickles and her knee was like the tip of a football, pointed and swollen. She grimaced, wondering how she was going to get some clothes on before the crew got here.

She pulled the front door open gingerly and poked her head out. Jason was standing on the landing on his own.

"Where is he?"

"He got away."

Nicky stared at him in disbelief, "But… how?"

Jason shrugged, "He must have run away when we were relocating your shoulder."

Nicky swayed unsteadily on her feet, "But you saw that it was Castel right? You took his mask off down there didn't you? You saw his face?"

Jason made a non-committal gesture with his hands, and Nicky sagged against the door.

"It was Castel, I know it and this was not just about me it was about you too."

"What did you tell Conklin?"

"I didn't name any names so… I guess that's that. Oh my God, I can't believe he got away. It's my fault, you should have just left me then come back once you'd subdued him," Nicky said dispiritedly.

Jason looked at her bloodied face and felt his heart clench in fear. He had almost lost her tonight. If he had not headed for her apartment as soon as the Eurostar stopped in Paris, he would have been too late. An innate sixth sense had told him something was wrong because he had run all the way here, stealing a motorcycle for the majority of the distance, he had sprinted to her apartment when it ran out of fuel. He had hurriedly cased the place then gone in through the main entrance, as he had raced up the stairs, he had heard her screaming. That's when he had decided to break into apartment 3 and climb into her apartment that way. Halfway up the wall he had heard Nicky and Castel tumbling down the stairs. Climbing back into Apartment 3, he walked on cat like feet to the front door which he open by a sliver, so he could assess what was going on.

Jason would never forget the obliterating volcano of rage he had felt when he saw the Italian hit Nicky. Taking out his gun, Jason got ready to blow Castel away when he remembered he was not supposed to be here and that after the situation was under control they would have to deal with this in a way that would not get Nicky into trouble with Treadstone. Tossing his gun onto the hallway table Jason had burst out of the apartment hauling Castel off Nicky.

The clean up crew arrived right then shaking Jason out of his reverie. As soon as the men ascended the stairs and Jason was sure they were the right people, he walked to the door, pushing it open after Nicky had shuffled away from it. Picking her up in his arms he took her to the armchair and sat her down in it. Ripping her blanket off her bed he draped it across her lap just as the crew came in. They immediately started videoing the room, snapping pictures as they went along.

"John Richards, ma'am, code 134Alpha89Whiskey." The burly Englishman said.

Nicky nodded, "Hey John, thanks for getting here so fast. Your orders are to clean up the apartment, make sure there are no witnesses, catch the guy who did this and take him to the infirmary in Brittany ASAP. He had a mask on but its highly likely it was another asset. Conklin will be here soon with further instructions."

John nodded, any surprise at the lack of a follow up or a debriefing deftly hidden as he ordered his men to do their jobs and move out. He was also careful not to make eye contact with Bourne, as it was strictly forbidden to do so should that set an asset off.

Jason remained standing in the shadows of Nicky's apartment as the crew cleaned it up, they tried to case the building and find Castel but it was to no avail. Instead they swabbed DNA and blood samples. Twenty minutes later they were gone, leaving Nicky still seated in the armchair. The medic in the team had bound and set her broken wrist, as well as treated her ankle and knee. She had promised to come into the Treadstone infirmary tomorrow for a more thorough diagnosis and treatment.

Nicky tried to get up from the armchair but Jason placed a restraining hand on her good shoulder.

"I'll get it," he said simply.

Nicky wanted to ask how he knew what she was after but when he came back with a mirror, she kept her mouth shut. Catching her reflection, Nicky's breath hitched in alarm.

Her face was a mess! Her right eye was swollen shut and a brilliant indigo-blue. Her face was almost completely covered in a patchwork of blue-black and purple bruises. Her upper lip was also swollen on the right side of her face. From what she could see of her neck the same pattern was stamped around it. She waved the mirror away with her good arm and sank back into the armchair.

The painkillers the medic had given her had already begun to take effect and Nicky was feeling pretty light-headed and drowsy. Maybe that's why she could not work up tears or rage at the battered state of her body. Jason set the mirror down and crouched in front of her. Nicky looked into his eyes, there was some strange emotion there but she was too tired to place it.

"I'm gonna get you dressed and then take you somewhere safe okay?"

"But I'm already safe," she replied tiredly.

Jason shook his head, "No you're not, you can't stay here tonight."

As he spoke he had opened her chest of drawers and pulled out some sweatpants. Approaching her, he knelt in front of her again and prodded her to sit up and push away the blanket covering her modesty. Nicky drowsily complied, letting him carefully work the material up her thighs. She slid off the armchair and into his waiting arms as he pulled the waistband over her hips and buttocks, letting it rest around her waist, he tied the cord to secure the baggy pants. He then gently pulled each of her arms through a hooded sweat-shirt, pulling the hood over her head. He stood up and walked into her toilet, opening the cupboard which housed her first aid box, he brought it into the room with him. Silently he pulled out gauze and tape then carefully wrapped her nose and the area surrounding it. Nicky did not utter a word struggling with sleep as Jason picked her up and carrying a few items he had set aside from her chest of drawers he shoved them in one of her small backpacks and carried her out of the apartment. Once they left the building he hailed a cab and getting into it, ordered the driver to take them to a hotel on the Rue de Louis Bonet.

He carried Nicky into the lobby, seating her in one of the waiting area chairs as he checked them in. Like he had done with the cab driver that had brought them here, Jason explained to the concierge that Nicky's bandaged countenance was from an out-procedure rhinoplasty. Once he had their room key he carried her upstairs to the room and pushing the door open, sat her down on the double bed. Nicky fell backwards onto the mattress and curled into the foetal position on her left side, too tired to do anything else. She fell asleep before Jason finished unwrapping the bandages on her face.

The next morning Nicky woke up to the feeling of an ice-pack on her knee, she winced in pain, her entire body stiff and painful. Groggily, she tried to sit up and felt two strong arms fluffing up the pillows behind her. Opening her good eye Jason's face swam into focus, just as the events in her apartment the night before came back to her.

"Jason!" Nicky cried out in consternation, her voice croaked, breaking on that one word.

"I'm right here, you're safe," he reassured her.

Nicky let out a pained gasp, "Everything hurts."

"I know, now don't move this ice pack until I say so. I'm running a hot bath for you, we're gonna get you cleaned up before Conklin gets here."

Nicky looked around the hotel room, "Where's_ here_ exactly?"

"Hôtel de la Paix and don't worry, I won't let anything happen to you." Jason spoke gravely, his blue eyes boring into her one good eye.

Nicky licked her lip and then winced since that hurt too. She chose to nod her head instead. He gave her some more painkillers to swallow with a glass of water. She obediently took the pills and drank the water. Her throat hurt, from when Castel had throttled her.

Gingerly he undressed her, ignoring her sharp intake of breath when she got a look at her bruised flesh. He carried her out of the bed and set her in the tub of steaming hot water and held her down as she writhed at the temperature. After a few minutes she got used to it and started to feel it working some of the tension out of her muscles.

"How did you know to find me?" Nicky asked in a raspy voice.

"You wouldn't believe me if I told you," Jason replied.

He had picked up a wash cloth and was lathering it with soap.

"Try me."

Jason started to soap her good arm gently, eventually he met her eyes.

"I just had a feeling you were in danger, as soon as I got off the Eurostar… I stole a motorcycle and then when it ran out of gas I sprinted the rest of the way to your apartment. Cased the place then ran up to the second floor, broke into apartment 3, was scaling the wall when the two of you came crashing down the stairs. You know the rest."

Nicky ground her teeth to keep from crying out when he soaped her sore shoulder, leaning forward so he could soap the rest of her back. She kept her teeth clamped shut until he had finished washing her, saving her private parts for last. Leaning back in the water she watched his fingers slide up her thighs and fought the urge to scream as she remembered what Castel had been about to do to her before Jason hauled him off. Jason noticed the tension in her shoulders and withdrew his hands.

"Do you want to do it yourself?" His kept his tone level and his face blank except for the concern in his eyes.

Nicky nodded, "Yes please."

He withdrew his hands from the tub and stood up, "I'll go get your bathrobe it's in the room."

He left her to finish off her ablutions which she did hurriedly, teeth firmly clenched once again as she tried not think about what could have happened had Jason not arrived when he did. When he returned with the bathrobe Nicky was ready to be lifted out of the water and dressed in the white terry cloth. Jason carried her back to the bedroom and sat her up in the bed. He produced a tube of Arnica cream and waved it in front of her face. She smiled weakly and nodded her acquiescence as he rubbed the cream into her most horrific bruises.

"Jason you saved me… thank you." Nicky rasped in her hoarse voice.

He replaced the cap on the tube and rose from the bed, putting some distance between them, unzipping her little blue Jansport backpack; he pulled out a clean pair of black sweat pants, a grey Huskies t-shirt and a black hooded sweat-shirt. He also pulled out a pair of black lacy panties and a grey bra he had shoved in the bag the night before. Walking over to the bed, he set the clothes down next to her, and gestured for her to remove her robe so he could dress her. Nicky dispiritedly let him dress her, disappointed that he had chosen not to even acknowledge what she had just said. When she was dressed, he sat down next to her on the bed and looked into her good eye.

"Do you want me to blow-dry your hair?"

"No thanks, just a brush through it will do," Nicky said curtly.

Jason ignored her tone and getting up, went into the bathroom, he came back with a hair-brush which he stroked tenderly through her hair a few times. Nicky made an impatient sound and moved away from him. He stopped and sat down in one of the chairs facing the bed. Nicky studied the cast around her right wrist and wondered how she could get Jason to stop being detached nursemaid.

"Castel had been watching and following me for a while now… he said he saw me in Rome at the beginning of this year, with my Mom."

She forced herself to look at him as she spoke again, "He said he also saw you watching us and he followed you as you followed me."

Jason remained silent nothing in his eyes or body language betraying how he felt about what she had just said.

"He told me he raped his sister, and he wanted to break me because you got to me before him. Jason he knows about us, he'll tell Conklin and the others." Nicky couldn't keep the panic from her voice.

Jason looked into her eyes and said coldly, "There is no us Nicky, just a delusional asset too tightly wound that began to blur fantasy with reality."

Nicky's face drained of color, Jason ignored this and continued talking.

"When Conklin gets here I will tell him that I knew somebody was following me, I even got into a fight with them in Paris a couple days ago. They got away but I found he had dropped a pager, I lifted the prints off it and when I tried to get some info on it, found out the owner's identity was classified. When you didn't meet me for debriefing when I got off the Eurostar, I went to see one of my Paris contacts for info on the pager. He told me that Castel had been following you over the last couple of days and I raced to your apartment."

Nicky swallowed the lump that had risen in her throat, who was this man?

"You tell Conklin exactly what happened but you leave anything about me tailing you in Rome or whatever out of it. Understood?"

Nicky nodded her head, "Yeah I got it."

"Good, now I got you some breakfast, it's probably cold now but it's better than nothing." Jason spoke as he rose from his seat and moved to the kitchenette area.

Nicky stared at the spot he had just vacated and felt numb. Jason handed her a chocolate croissant in greasy wax paper, she took the proffered pastry and took a couple bites. He resumed his seat in the chair across from the bed, quietly watching her eat. Halfway through, she couldn't take another bite and gave into her frustration. She threw the croissant at him.

"Is that all you have to say about last night!? Damn you Jason, damn you to Hell!"

He picked up the pastry and threw it in the trash can by the bedside.

"Good to see the dislocation wasn't too serious."

She groaned in frustration, fists clenched tightly.

"What else do you want me to say?"

"How about… I'm glad you're alive!? Gee Nicky nice work not getting raped or killed by that psycho Castel!" Nicky croaked at him.

Jason looked at her incredulously, "I am glad you are alive but we're not out of the woods yet, we've got Conklin and Treadstone to deal with. They are going to be watching the two of us like hawks from now on. And if I remember correctly he was just about to rape you when I got there, but if you want me to congratulate you for fending him off for as long as you did, then yeah sure congratulations. If I hadn't got there when I did he would have raped and killed you anyway."

Nicky smacked her good hand over her good eye, "Oh God, my mistake, _how_ could I expect a _shred_ of human _emotion_, _human_ interaction from a fucking _robot!?_ Daddy Conklin must be so proud. Castel…He attacked me because of _you_, to _get _to _you_, I'm not blaming you but a little commiseration is not too much to ask. As for your left-handed apology, keep it, fuck you very much!"

She was so angry she pushed herself off the bed to stomp away, taking two steps before her both her knee and ankle gave underneath her. She landed in Jason's lap with an undignified howl of pain. He looked into her eye and she looked at him and they both burst out laughing at the same time.

"It's not funny!" She protested weakly.

Jason held her tightly in his arms, resting his cheek on the top of her head.

"Don't ever scare me like that again Nicky. From now on you keep a loaded gun on you at all times. And as for Frank Castel, I wanted to kill him last night and I will kill him like you promised him I would."

The last part came out so vehemently Nicky suppressed a shudder. He was looking at her with a look that was a combination of determination and tenderness. She tried to bury her head in his shoulder.

"Don't, I'm hideous," she protested.

"Not to me… I look at you and all I see is light, strength and courage, I'm so proud of you Nicolette," he spoke gravely.

Nicky couldn't help beaming at this, then as the action pulled and strained at her battered facial muscles she winced.

"You should be, and you were right, about the training… so thank you for that too."

Jason chuckled, "You hit him in the face with a saucepan! It's like a cartoon... Roadrunner!"

Nicky's chest rose defensively, "It broke his nose didn't it!?"

Jason grinned at her and was about to say something when a knock sounded on the door, within seconds he'd sat her down in the chair and withdrawing his gun, he approached the door.

"Parsons it's Conklin, open up dammit!"

Jason used his surveillance camera monitor to verify this and when he saw Conklin's face went up to the door and opened it. The older man swept into the room and strode right over to Nicky's armchair. Danny Zorn and a medical team were closely behind him.

"Jesus H Christ Nicky, the clean up crew weren't lying the sonofabitch did a real number on you."

"Good morning to you too sir," Nicky replied in a tired tone. She looked over at Jason and noted he had reverted to Treadstone asset extraordinaire, standing to attention by the door. She sighed inwardly, it was going to be a long day.

-----------------------xxxxxxxx------------------------

What did y'all think? It wasn't too OTT with the Castel assault and him getting away? Obviously, JB let him get away, he's too smart to have let Castel be caught by the crew de clean up! Mwahahaha! So we have one more chapter and it is the end of Part 1 - Pre-**Identity**! The Trilogy years won't be as long as this part but I hope to get in some juicy insights. Seriously though guys thanks a ton for reading, reviewing, adding me to your story alerts and favorites without reviews... hint hint. It's quite encouraging all the same.

And for those of y'all that pay extra attention in class you may have noticed that Nicky and Jason stay at the same hotel that Jason and Marie stay at when they go to Paris (the one that they don't go back to cause they had been blown) in **Bourne Identity**.


	8. Chapter 8 Danger Zone

"_Something takes a part of me, something lost and never seen_

_Everytime I start to believe something is raped and taken from me, from me."_- **Freak On A Leash**, Korn

"_It's not fair, it's not fair! _

_Don't leave me here_

_Why's this happening to me?_

_It feels so lonely here._

_We up in a mess… _

_A Danger Zone_

_What will happen next we never know."_ – **Danger Zone**, Gwen Stefani

**Danger Zone**

"Alright, everybody out, I need to speak to Parsons alone." Conklin barked.

Danny Zorn and Jason left the room without a backward glance, leaving Nicky alone in the hotel room with their boss. Seated in her chair Nicky fingered her cast distractedly wondering if Conklin was going to fire her.

He sat on the edge of bed and faced her, the determined look on his face made Nicky's pulse jump in her throat with a surge of fear. If he fired her, she would never see Jason again and she could not bear that.

"Nicky, I am so sorry this happened to you. We're going to get to the bottom of this." Conklin spoke vehemently.

She nodded silently, staring at her plastered wrist and rubbing it absently. Conklin's eyes strayed down to the cast and he winced inwardly in sympathy.

"We always take care of our own and never leave a man behind. You know that… I am an army man too?"

"Thank you sir… it means a lot to me." Nicky said huskily, bringing her brown eyes up to meet Conklin's.

The older man raked a hand through his hair then clasped his hands together.

"Nicolette you may not know this but your father and I were at West Point together. Later on he was my C.O. at Fort Bragg. When I saw you today… when I saw your face, Jesus Christ Parsons, I could not imagine telling your father that you… you had been-"

"I understand Sir," Nicky interrupted him. She could not bear to hear him say the words.

Conklin studied her for a few seconds, "I'm sending you to the Treadstone hospital in Brittany. When you have recovered you can go home."

Nicky's eyes widened in shock, "Is that an order Sir?"

Conklin shook his head, "Right now Parsons, I am not in any position to give you any orders. I can give you choices though, get better and go home. Put all of this behind you or, get better and come back to work."

Nicky took a deep breath and kept her eyes on Conklin's, "If it's all the same to you Sir, I would like to come back to work."

Conklin's eyes widened in surprise, "You're probably still in shock Parsons, you don't have to make any decisions now."

Nicky's fingers tightened around her cast then she forced herself to relax, "With all due respect Sir, I have already made my decision."

Conklin nodded slowly with approval, "Okay."

Nicky discreetly let out a sigh of relief, "Okay."

Conklin studied her intently for a few minutes, the silence in the room stretching indefinitely. Nicky forced herself not to fidget or do anything that Conklin might find suspicious. Finally he took a deep breath, running a hand through his hair again.

"When you come back we will enhance your training, some more stuff on self-defence, weapons handling so you can protect yourself… I'm so sorry I did not protect you better before, but we will fix that."

Nicky nodded, accepting the decisions he was making as he spoke. She felt guilty thinking how much she had resented him these last few years, he was not all bad. Taking a deep breath she opened her mouth to speak and felt tears prick her eyes.

"You did good Nicky… I am so proud of you for being able to defend yourself and I know your father would be proud too if he was to hear about this. Do you want me to tell him? It's against protocol but this is a special case."

Nicky shook her head vehemently, "No, please don't."

Conklin reached over and covered her good hand with his in a gesture of support. She blinked back the tears and got a hold of her emotions. When she was sure she had them under control, she looked up at Conklin.

"Thank you Sir."

"For what?"

"For believing in me… for saying what you said. I won't let you down."

Conklin's eyes softened and he moved off the bed to kneel in front of her. Nicky's eyes widened in surprise.

"You have done exceptionally well out there Nicky and you have not let me down yet. You have exceeded my expectations and for that I am honored to be doing this very difficult but necessary job with you."

He got up and brought her up with him, hugging her spontaneously. Nicky's breath lodged in her throat in amazement. Conklin was hugging _her_, Nicolette Parsons! He pulled away and gently let her sit down again. When she looked up into his face his features had settled back into his perpetually hawkish expression.

"It's going to be alright Parsons, now let's get you to the hospital," he said as he turned away and strode to the door.

Nicky sent up a silent prayer to whatever deity was up there that he was right.

"Danny is the car to Brittany ready, we gotta get a move on, tick tock, time's awasting!"

-----------xxx----------

May 15 2002

Nicky settled into her bed for the first night since she had been released from the hospital. Her standard issue weapon was under one of the pillows she was not directly lying on and she had checked and re-checked the magazine and the chamber three times. She refused to let herself think about what had almost happened to her with Castel on the exact same mattress. If she let it get to her then he would have won all the same.

She stared up at the ceiling in the darkness, her heart wishing Jason was here with her to drive away her fears. She had not seen him since she had been taken to the hospital which was just as well since Conklin was closely watching both of them at the Hotel de la Paix the morning after Castel's attack on her.

For the millionth time in a month she wondered how Jason was doing. Was he having the killer headaches still? Was he okay? What kind of toll had any assignments he had gone on taken on him? The next time she saw him would he be cold and distant? How many times had he gone to see Myléne while she was in the hospital? She gritted her teeth in silent frustration, mentally slamming the door on all things Jason Bourne. With the sealed doors on Tristan, the confrontation with Castel in this apartment, her issues with her parents, Jean-Paul and the personal toll working for Treadstone had taken on her, Nicky mused she was running out of storage space for all her issues. She screwed her eyes shut and prayed for sleep to come.

An hour later when it seemed like she was going to have a very long sleepless night, Nicky began to count sheep. She must have fallen asleep somewhere around 45 because it was with a start that her good hand curled around the weapon under her pillow and Nicky silently took stock of her surroundings. Something had woken her but she was not sure if it was real or imagined. When she felt a dip in her mattress, Nicky gently eased the safety of her gun. A hand came out of nowhere in the dark and grabbed her good wrist, waves of debilitating fear washed over Nicky.

"Hey it's me." Jason whispered into her ear.

His left hand was wrapped around her left shoulder and her back was pressed against his torso as she nodded in understanding and relinquished her grip on the gun. Jason slid the safety catch back on and set the gun on the side table then turned Nicky in his arms to look at her. Their eyes eagerly devoured each other in the near darkness. Jason's hands traveled up her arms and came to rest on either side of her throat. With a groan he leaned down and pressed his forehead against hers.

"Thank God you're okay," he whispered softly.

Nicky's eyes closed with a combination of pleasure and relief, she propped her plastered arm on his flank and brought up her good hand to cradle the back of his head. The moment was so tender she chose not to say anything that might break the spell. He pulled away slightly and she leaned in to kiss his lips chastely.

The touch of their lips was like setting a match to gasoline and she clung to him tightly as their tongues met in a passionate open mouthed kiss. After a few minutes, Jason pressed her back into the bed and stroked his hands down her body, making Nicky shiver in anticipation. She stroked her hand down his chest, feeling the hard ridges of his muscles under the cotton shirt he was wearing. Jason was kissing her like he was a bee drawing the sweetest nectar from her lips and he could not get enough of her. Nicky used her good hand to fumble with his belt. She gasped into his mouth as he pressed her down into the mattress, his hands freely roaming possessively all over her body. This was very different from all the other trysts they had had. This time there was a tenderness borne out of affection and familiarity. Neither one was trying to prove anything, they were just enjoying themselves, using their tongues and bodies to express emotions neither one of them dared clothe with words.

It was only when Jason's hand slid down Nicky's right forearm and his smooth progress was hindered by her cast that he paused. Pulling his lips away from hers reluctantly he hid his face in the crook of her neck, breathing harshly. He groaned like he was in pain.

"We can't do this."

Nicky brought her good hand up to cradle the back of his neck and sighed in frustration.

"Why not?"

"It's not right, you're still healing and this place is wired with audio and visual devices. I set it on a loop since you turned off the lights but I'm not sure how good the software is yet. I'm taping tonight so I can see. It's not fool-proof and Conklin is watching you, both of us very closely," Jason whispered into her ear.

Nicky closed her eyes in the dark and bit back any protest, she knew this man, he made it sound like conversation but he was basically setting the rules. She would not change his mind and if she tried he would get angry and/or leave. Bringing her other arm she held him close in a hug that communicated she understood. He half smiled, half-grimaced into her neck then drew away so he could turn her around. She smiled as she realized he was not going to leave and was spooning her. Leaning forward he kissed the side of her face tenderly.

"I'll stay until you're asleep."

She nodded in understanding and closed her eyes with a smile on her face. His arms were wrapped around her waist and he held her so tightly she could barely breathe. It may not be sex but this was infinitely better, he was holding her close because he wanted to!

---------xx-----

The next night Jason snuck into her studio while she lay in bed watching late night television on the set she had bought earlier that day. With only the light from the television casting wild shadows in the otherwise unlit apartment, he got into bed with her, his arms wrapping around her waist as he held her close. He kissed her soundly and just when Nicky was distracted enough, he coaxed the remote control out of her hand. Pulling away he flipped the channels until he got onto the Cartoon Network. Nicky turned in the dark to shoot him a sceptical look. He pointedly ignored her.

"Tom and Jerry are my favorite," he whispered.

"You like cartoons?"

"No… I _love_ cartoons."

"That is so weird, next thing you're gonna say is you think babies are the best thing since sliced bread," Nicky whispered incredulously.

"You know me better than you think." Jason murmured warmly.

"Uh okay what? Seriously, I was being sarcastic… but come on Jason you're not really into babies and cartoons are you?"

"Yes," he whispered into her ear and bestowed a kiss on her temple.

Nicky felt a delicious chill shiver down her spine, "Okay, let's say I buy it that you're a cartoon man, _why_ are we watching them now?"

"Thought we should watch some together, get some more tips on how to disable a top asset with crock ware... or a hammer."

Nicky elbowed him in the ribs as he laughed silently, and held her closer. After a few minutes she realized he was serious. She envisaged Tristan's cherubic face and her heart clenched, had she been wrong to keep his existence from him? He said he loved kids, so it only stood to reason he would love his own even more right? An image of Jason playing with Tristan in the house in Thailand sprang to mind and it was so poignant and so powerful, she had to catch her breath when it dissipated. She felt Jason's eyes on her and smiled up at him reassuringly, snuggling even closer to him. He winked at her and directed his attention back to the antics of the cat and the mouse on the screen. Nicky gave herself a mental shaking and slammed the door on her Jason/Tristan musings. Consciously she made a choice not to overanalyze or indulge in flights of fancies about this. She was only going to take this new revelation of something as simple as what he liked as a small gift it was and leave it at that. She found herself able to enjoy the cartoons until she fell asleep.

-----------xx----------xx--------

2 June 2002

It was her first day back to work and Nicky had spent six solid hours with Danny and Conklin while they brought her up to speed on what she had missed.

"Now on the matter of your attacker, we found him, it was Italian guy called Gianni Tresoro," Conklin explained patiently.

Danny as if on cue handed Nicky a file with a picture of a man that looked exactly like Castel. She frowned in confusion.

"He looks very similar to Castel I know… if you turn to the photos you'll see that this is our guy. He has a little sister called Bianca whom he beat and raped, also when we found him on the border of France and Italy we noted the scratch marks on his face just where you said they should be, see?" Conklin was pointing to the various pictures and looking up at her expectantly to gauge her reaction.

Nicky took a deep breath and internalizing her sarcasm, she smiled brightly at Conklin.

"Thank God we found him… where is he now?"

"He's six feet under where he belongs, this sonofabitch was a monster, used to be part of an Italian black-ops programme until they let him go due to psychiatric problems. Doesn't take a rocket scientist to figure out the Italians must know something about Treadstone which means we're going to have beef up security."

Nicky watched Conklin's lips move like she was very far away from it all. They had killed a Castel lookalike to appease her, while they let Castel go scot-free. She knew she could raise questions but it was pointless, the damage had already been done.

"Of course Sir," she replied neutrally.

Conklin and Danny nodded in approval of her response. Then a silent signal passed between the two men. Danny leaned forward, clasping his hands and looking up at Nicky solicitously.

"Now Parsons, we don't want to drag this thing out any longer so we're making a few changes temporarily. I'm going to work with Jason for the next couple of months, as in I'll be running point on him from Paris until your cast is off then Langley after that."

"You're taking my asset away from me!? Why?" She knew her voice and face conveyed her outrage and she did not care.

Danny looked at Conklin for reassurance then back at her, "Only for a little while, we just want you to get better, get a little more self-defense and weapons training, just in case. We thought it would be good for you, besides, we don't want Langley to hear about the incident with Tresoro so…"

"What do you mean you don't want Langley to hear? You filed a report… I briefed you on it and I was at the Treadstone hospital!"

"Yeah, thing is, we have a spotless record for this program so far and we don't want to start drawing unnecessary attention from the bureaucrats back home, also if we filed the report they would want you to come back, so we decided to keep this between you, us and Bourne and even he doesn't have the full picture." Danny explained.

Nicky stared down at the file on Gianni Tresoro dumbly, there was a threat in that statement somewhere. She knew she had no choice but to heed it.

"I understand and thank you for… everything." She gave a tearful smile at the last word.

Conklin and Danny smiled back at her encouragingly. Nicky blinked back her tears and smiled even brighter. Her eyes straying down to the pictures of a battered Tresoro, she let out a deep sigh. She was going to have to play the game, this was one of the consequences of getting involved with Jason Bourne.

"His resemblance to Castel is uncanny!"

"Yeah, yeah it is," Conklin nodded.

Flipping through the file, she noted that it said Gianni Tresoro had been found with a broken nose, four broken ribs, a punctured lung, a broken right arm and left leg. He had been shot assassination style, his remains sent to his family in Bologna. Nicky deduced that the list of injuries were real even if the name of the person and the 'facts' surrounding his 'demise' were not.

"So will I still have all my other assets?" She raised her eyes to meet Conklin, the unspoken question being would she get to work with Frank Castel in Rome again.

"No, we've decided to give your Italian assets to Treadstone in Rome, same with the Spanish ones. The unfortunate incident served to show us just how overworked you were Parsons. From now on, you'll continue to deal with all the ones in France, our best in Belgium, Germany and Switzerland directly only. The others will be dealt with by their respective countries. If you are to give them a job directly then you will deal with them for those jobs." Conklin explained.

Nicky nodded, she supposed it made sense. Shutting the file on Tresoro, she looked at Danny then Conklin.

"Understood, now Sir if you don't mind may I please go home? I'm feeling pretty tired."

Conklin reached over and squeezed her hand reassuringly, "Of course, and before you go, I have something for you."

Danny produced a small black case with a red bow on it, Nicky looked at them questioningly as she accepted the gift. Removing the ribbon, she opened the case to find a brand new silver Sig Sauer P226. She gasped in appreciation, gingerly taking the gun out she ran tentative fingers over it.

"Sir… this is beautiful."

Conklin shrugged, "I'm glad you like it. Now if anyone comes through your door who ain't supposed to, you peg them dead in the eyes, I don't care who it is. You got that?"

Nicky nodded vigorously.

"Good girl. Now I know you came up with top marks during training and also that you have grown up around guns but I thought you and I could go for target practice when your cast is off, brush up your skill."

Nicky put the gun back in its case and smiled at Conklin genuinely, "I'd love that Sir."

"Great now that is decided, pack up your things Parsons, Danny and I will take you home."

"Yes Sir, and thank you once again for… everything," she said gravely.

Conklin waved her thanks away and rose from his seat, Danny did the same as they waited for her to stand up. When she was on her feet, Nicky gave them one more small smile and turned away to gather her things so she could go home. The price for her staying in Paris had been the life of a Gianni Tresoro, and an information blackout in Langley about her injuries. The two men had her where they wanted her now and there was nothing she could do about it without opening Pandora's Box. Jason had been right about Treadstone after all, it was necessary but evil; she had been naïve to think that anyone got out of a black ops programme alive. One way or another, your soul was sold to the devil.

June 10 2002

Nicky probed her wrist gently, flexing it cautiously as she tried to imagine what it would look like once the cast had been removed. It had been six weeks since the Treadstone medic had set it after Castel's assault. Nicky suppressed a shudder as the remembered sounds of Castel using her as punching bag reverberated in her head. The blood samples the clean up crew had taken obviously had proven the identity of her attacker, even if Conklin had never said anything to her about the test results. There was no way they would reveal that Castel was not the man who had almost succeeded in breaking Nicky.

Looking up from her wrist she looked around her apartment and gave a grim smile of victory. He may have broken her wrist and almost raped her but she had resolved not give him the satisfaction of breaking her mentally like he must have broken his sister Bianca.

She had replaced her screen which had been broken at some point in their tussle as well as her lamp, and there was the television set she had bought. Otherwise she had restored everything to the way it had been before.

With a soft sigh, Nicky resumed playing the scales on the piano with her good hand. She could not wait until she could play with both hands again.

---------xx---------

"Hey, how are you feeling?" Jason asked solicitously, he leaned in and enveloped Nicky in hug, kissing the top of her head before releasing her.

Nicky masked her surprise at the affectionate gesture and pulled Jason into the studio.

"Good, I'm feeling good. The cast comes off next Monday and according to Dr. Levy it should be fine. The break was clean so he doesn't expect any problems," she explained as she followed Jason into her kitchen.

"I brought dinner," Jason said over his shoulder as he set some bags on the counter-top.

Nicky nodded nervously, "I can see that, but I had already cooked my Grandma Margaret's famous chilli… to say thank you for looking out for me."

Jason turned to look at her and she glanced away, why was she feeling so nervous around him? She quashed the voice in her head that was saying it was because since Castel's attack their relationship was about to evolve into something more akin to actual couple-hood.

"I can't stay long you know that Conklin's increased the surveillance of this place, it takes me a half hour to disable all the machinery in a way that won't draw attention," Jason spoke gravely.

Nicky's eyes met his then slid away again, "The food's ready now that you brought some bread."

Jason watched her as she hesitantly walked past him and walked over to her two-plate stove to take the chilli off the burner. He moved away from her and sat at the small kitchen table that seated two. She had already set plates and cutlery. He sat down reluctantly. Nicky brought the saucepan onto the table, placing it at the center. Rummaging through the bags he brought she took out a still warm baguette and brought it to the table. He got up as she sat down then resumed his seat.

Nicky smiled at him shyly, "Would you do the honors? It's still a little awkward for me."

Jason inclined his head and dipped a serving spoon in the chilli, it looked and smelled very appetizing. After he had spooned some into her bowl, he spooned some into his. Nicky nodded her thanks as he ripped the baguette in half and passed one half to her.

"Bon apetit," Nicky said as she picked up her spoon and took a bite of the food.

"Bon apetit," he said softly.

He picked up his spoon and looked over at her as she methodically piled chilli onto some bread. When he caught himself smiling indulgently as he watched her, spoon still half suspended in the air he blinked and looked down at his food. The light glinted off the face of his wristwatch and Jason felt all the blood rushing to his head. Shaking it slightly he looked at the chilli then at Nicky who looked up at him questioningly. His mouth felt like it was filled with ashes and he narrowed his eyes at her. Nicky noted his fists were clenched on the table, his body radiating hostility.

"You're not eating?"

"I'm not hungry."

"What? Why? Just try some, I swear it's really good!" She put her spoon down and reached out her good hand to cover one of his.

Jason jerked away from her touch like she had burned him, sweeping his hand across the table he sent his bowl flying onto the floor and fluidly rose to his feet.

"I said I am not hungry."

Nicky froze and looked at him in hurt surprise.

"Jason what's-"

"What did you put in this Nicky, huh? What kinda drug did you slip in this chilli?" Each word stung like a tiny knife wound as Jason picked up the saucepan of chilli and waved it in her face. She paled visibly under his scrutiny. Jason set the saucepan down with an emphatic thud. Some sauce slopped over the rim, Nicky watched it dribble down the side and onto the white table cloth she had set. She frowned and raised her eyes to meet his.

"Are you trying to say I slipped you a roofie? Jason why would I do that? And why would I take it too?" She asked incredulously.

His breathing was heavy and his nostrils were flaring, fists clenched at his sides and knuckles white from tension. Nicky made to rise and he tensed, the gleam in his eye prompting her to resume her seat. She stared at him warily, frozen stiff and afraid to move by the palpable tension radiating off him in hostile waves.

"I don't need this shit from you Nicky and I don't have time for this."

"Jason-"

"Don't Nicky," he warned coldly, sweeping his eyes over her impassively he stepped around the table and left the kitchen.

Nicky stared at the broken bowl fragments and spilt chilli splattered on the black and white tiles in hurt confusion as she heard her front door slam shut.

---------xxx----

June 24 2002

"Anything else you want to tell me before we conclude the assessment?" Nicky asked briskly.

"Yeah, one more thing."

She nodded for Jason to go ahead.

"As an asset it is very important to me and for me, to always be in control. It is my goal to always be prepared for anything and that involves not trusting easily." His eyes bored into hers as he spoke.

Nicky tensed slightly, her irritation rising to the surface despite her best attempts not to let it.

"Trusting easily or trusting at all?"

His lips twisted into a cynical grin, "I can't say I don't trust at all otherwise I would not be doing this job."

"Right, because you have to put a certain amount of trust in Treadstone, in Conklin and me."

He dipped his chin in agreement, "Yeah, but my trust does not extend beyond that."

"Are there… have there been any particular circumstances where you have been put in position where you are unable to trust easily?"

"No."

She stared down at her pad as she wrestled with her emotions. The bastard was telling her he did not trust her enough not to poison him and she was supposed to what? Smile and pretend it was okay? God she hated her job and she hated him. Cognizant of the fact that Conklin's secret cameras were taping the entire conversation, Nicky squashed whatever tantrum was dying to burst out of her and raised her eyes to meet his.

"Can you give me an example then of a situation where you would not be able to trust easily but may be expected to according to the dictates of society in general?" she asked in a slightly resigned tone.

Jason shrugged, leaning back in his seat and stretching his legs out so they almost touched hers, it took everything Nicky had not to make a face or move her chair away from him.

"Actually yes, I was thinking if I ever had the time and desire to have a girlfriend I could never trust her to cook for me, because she could be an agent sent to seduce and kill me."

Nicky kept her face blank and her eyes unreadable but she annotated what he was saying then looked up at him, nodding for him to continue.

"So then that got me thinking of a way to fulfill an assignment that involved a target in a date setting. I realised that while the target and his date were getting it on and the food had already been prepared, I could slip in something lethal but tasteless in the food… then disappear."

He watched her casually as she furiously scribbled the gist of what he had said. She raised her eyes to meet his and folded her hands over her notepad.

"Is this troubling you or did you want me to map out a logistics scenario in line with what you just described?" She asked in her most professionally detached voice.

He sat up, checked his wristwatch and got to his feet, "I have to go but do whatever you want with that…let's call it food for thought."

Nicky raised her eyes up to meet his but he had already turned away, heading for the door. Sliding her chair over to her desk she watched him leave through the security monitors then set the alarm system that would prevent him or anyone entering the safe house without her permission. Turning to look at her notepad, Nicky made a few more notes before she started typing the whole thing up. Stubbornly she ignored the mixed feelings of outrage, hurt and despair that were flooding through her. Conklin was watching, she would finish off her report, send it to him in Langley then contact Jacques and Louisa, go out to a rave. Anywhere she could scream her frustration without drawing any unwanted attention. Just not here and not now.

---------xxxxxxx--------

Langley, Virginia

Conklin and Danny Zorn watched Nicky as she went about her business.

"What do you think Zorn?"

"Honestly Sir?"

"Yes, spit it out dammit," Conklin urged the younger man impatiently.

Danny shrugged, "Nothing there. He would never sleep with her or do anything with her and he never has. I mean there's Myléne and only Myléne. That Castel fixated on Parsons is unfortunate, she handled herself very well considering what she was up against, and she continues to be a professional. We have had her under 24-hour surveillance since April and she has not done anything to rouse or to warrant our suspicions."

"But how did he know to come to her rescue and how did he know where she lived? How did Castel know where she lives?"

"Sir, I don't think any of these assets _don't_ know where you and I live either to be honest. It is in their nature to hunt, to collect information. Nicky herself initiated a code white earlier this month, maybe the man who was following her was Castel."

Conklin contemplated this for a few seconds, then gestured for Danny to continue.

"If it had been Bourne I am very confident she would never have suspected anything. Sir, Bourne is not the type to deviate from the programming he has proven that time and time again. Bourne saw what we were too far away and too preoccupied maybe to notice, so he protected her for us. He also protected Castel. You told him never to kill an asset without a direct order from you no matter what and that's exactly what he did. You _just_ heard him, even in his _downtime_ he is thinking of newer, better, more discreet ways to kill people. He is a credit to you Sir."

Conklin, hand on hip nodded, "You've made your point Danny no need to ass kiss."

"Sir-"

"Okay let's cut the surveillance and eavesdropping, but the hidden cameras remain in the safe house and in her building. We can take the ones in her studio out, let our girl have some privacy. Make sure you destroy the tapes. I didn't like those few glitches we had with the equipment, so get our tech guys to improve it. This thing with Castel was a surprise and I don't like surprises, let's make sure we don't get caught with our pants down again." He walked around the desk and accepted the file his secretary gave him.

Opening it up, he sat down at his desk and looked up at Danny.

"You're dismissed Zorn."

The younger man, sprang to action, taking his files with him, he left Conklin's office.

------xx-------xx---

7 July 2002

There were two hands moving across the ebony and ivory keys on the white Steinway. The left was darker and larger, the fingernails precisely cut and clean. The right hand was paler, the fingers tapered and nails oval-shaped and gleaming with clear nail varnish.

Nicky and Jason sat side by side on the piano bench as they played '_Fur Elise_' in tandem. After her cast had been removed the day before, Nicky had been too busy with work to try out the piano but today on her day off, Jason had turned up with a new cellphone for her and a box filled with all kinds of warm pastries. It was the first time he had sought her out since their last appointment at the safe house when he had indirectly explained what had made him accuse her of trying to poison him.

Understanding him as she did, Nicky realized this was as close to an apology and explanation she was going to get. He had been wary but she had slammed a lid on her unresolved anger and pain at the incident and welcomed him into the studio.

He had told her to get dressed, they were going for a role-playing exercise and she was to meet him at the Galeries Lafayette in twenty minutes. With that statement he had left. Doing as she had been told she had met him at the shopping center and from there they had gone to an exclusive boutique in Paris' fashionable district that catered for the super-rich and fashionable. She had bought a pair of Jimmy Choos and then he had accompanied her to a clothing store where she had chosen a red Chanel sheath dress and a white Burberry trench-coat. They had split up after and when Nicky had returned to the apartment he was waiting. After coffee, made by him, and pastries, Jason had caught her wistful glances at the piano and encouraged her to try out her newly healed hand. When she had hesitated he offered to play a duet with her. They had sat down on the bench together and he had apologized that he only new three or four songs by heart which is how they had ended up settling on '_Fur Elise_'.

"Your skill level is worlds above from mine," Jason observed appreciatively.

Nicky smiled at this but kept her eyes focused on the keys as she critically tried to assess how weak her hand had become. The twinges of discomfort in her wrist after only two-thirds of the song worried her and it was translated into the keys themselves.

Jason picking up the difference in the way her music sounded, leaned over and kissed her left ear. She stumbled on the keys and snuck a glance at him. He nuzzled her face, gently prompting her to continue playing. He lifted his left hand off the keys and slid it across her lap, with his right hand he pushed her hair out of the way and proceeded to trail wet kisses down her neck. When his breath ghosted across the moist skin, Nicky stopped playing with a twang and turned to face him. Their lips met and she kissed him passionately, one arm around his waist and the other around his neck as she drew him closer.

Jason's fingers traced the neckline of the sheath dress then feverishly encircled to her back so he could undo the tiny buttons he had done up less than two hours before. Lifting Nicky to straddle his lap, he did not break their kiss as his fingers fumbled with the buttons. Her hands were scrambling frantically at his belt buckle and she moaned in relief when the clasp came undone. Her elbow banged against the keys and they let out a loud clunking sound in protest. Just as Jason had finished undoing her buttons and Nicky had unzipped his jeans, his phone rang. With a groan, Jason fished the offending item out of his pocket, breaking their kiss to answer it.

"Rue de Montmartre asap," Conklin ordered over the phone.

"Yes Sir." Jason responded.

Hanging up the call, he looked at Nicky her brown eyes still clouded with desire, face flushed and her lips temptingly swollen. She returned his perusal solemnly as he eased her off his lap and back on the bench. Standing, he zipped up his jeans and buckled his belt again. Nicky did not meet his eyes, she simply watched his hands, fighting the urge to scream obscenities at him for not even being apologetic about the interruption. He tilted her chin up and looked into her face. She kept her expression impassive and her eyes unreadable. He felt a stab of annoyance at her for shutting him out but he did not show it releasing her chin he walked away and headed for the front door. The sheath dress gaping at the back, Nicky turned to watch him leave. The door silently shut and she blinked in consternation. The two most prevailing emotions caused by Jason's latest demonstration of his mercurial nature and just where her feelings ranked on his list of priorities; were resignation and numbness. How had her anger cooled so quickly and solidified into the lead of dread in her stomach? And what did it mean that the embers of desire still burned at the same time?

----------xx--------


	9. Chapter 9 Bend and Break

_When you forget your name_

_When old fac__es all look the same_

_Meet me in the morning when you wake up_

_If only I don't bend and break_

_I'll meet you on the other side_

_I'll meet you in the light_

_If only I don't suffocate_

_I'll meet you in the morning when you wake_ – **Bend and Break**, Keane

**Bend or Break**

12 July 2002

Jason watched Nicky as she maneuvered the Citroen underneath the shaded trees in the deserted wood outside Neuilly-le-Vendin. They had spent the last two hours practicing offensive and defensive driving; and he had to admit to himself that she had done a very good job. If they had been on the run from someone not only would she have successfully evaded them but she would have kept the car steady enough for him to shoot their pursuers dead.

Nicky turned off the ignition and turned to him expectantly.

"Great job, now its time for you to strip wipe the car down, I'm going to time you."

She opened the car door and got out. Reaching into her back pocket, she pulled out a pair of latex gloves then walked round to the passenger side, opened the door and took out her box of supplies. Pulling her ponytail up into a makeshift bun, she donned a latex swim-cap, zipped up her leather sports jacket, wrapped some plastic bags on her sneaker clad feet then gestured for him to get out of the car. He stepped out of the car and walked away to sit on the hood of the black Fiat Punto he had driven there that morning so they could use it as a getaway vehicle.

Bottom lip firmly clamped between her teeth, Nicky got to work while Jason looked around, his eyes on the sight-lines, his ears attuned to pick out any sounds that were not supposed to be there.

As he watched her wipe the car down, he thought about the change in her since the 'Chilli Incident'. It caused him pangs of guilt and remorse when he observed that his reaction to her cooking had changed her more than Castel's attack had. Her smile almost never reached her eyes these days, hovering somewhere between her lips and her lower lids. Also, more often than not, she was withdrawn from him, the shuttered look she adopted when she did not want him to know what she was thinking or feeling had set up permanent residence in her soft brown eyes. He now had to rely on his ability to read body language and that wasn't fool-proof because somewhere along the way she had learned how to train her body not to betray her. In retrospect, he thought he should have made a personal apology for his reaction, but he was an asset, it was an established fact they were paranoid. She had to know that came with the territory. He could not change that aspect of his personality just as he could not change the fact that one day he could turn around and suspect her of being with him due to some ulterior Treadstone sanctioned motive. And with Castel out there, in desperate need of being terminated, the increase in the headaches as well as the six weeks hard-core training Conklin had put him through while Nicky was convalescing, Jason did not see himself being able to nor did he want to lower his guard anymore than he already had with Nicky. He cared for her, he cared about her a lot and there was no doubt in his mind that she still cared about him but she no longer seemed to revel in the feelings she had for him. There was nothing he could do about the fact that he was an asset and she was his handler. Or the fact that being involved with her was a weakness that his enemies and so-called 'allies' at Treadstone could exploit. Since he had no intention of letting her go, Nicky was just going to have to accept that. Maybe he was overanalyzing the whole situation, but he was quite confident that this was the case. As an afterthought, Jason wondered if there was a way, how would he even go about making amends?

"Done," Nicky pronounced as she shut the car door and stood in front of Jason, jolting him out of his reverie.

He glanced at his wristwatch, five minutes, not bad. He inspected the car then turned back to her, inclining his head towards her in approval.

"Okay, let's go, but first you gotta check the Fiat for bugs, you've got three minutes."

She shrugged, "No problem."

Jason couldn't help the burst of pride in his chest, if nothing else he would always sleep easier knowing she could take care of herself. Well, if he could ever get any sleep these days.

-----------xxx

"You're not getting enough rest."

"Rest, I'm getting, it's sleep that's the problem."

Nicky looked up from the Glock she was cleaning and fixed serious eyes on him. They were in Jason's privately owned warehouse in the outskirts of Paris. He kept it secure with the most up to date security systems available and also stored all kinds of weapons, a training mat and targets for target practice. He also owned the acre of farmland surrounding it.

"How bad is it?"

His face and eyes went blank as he carefully folded a long strip of black cloth.

"I'm going about 48 hours before I can get a decent 2-3 hours sleep."

Her eyebrows rocketed up in concerned surprise, "Jason I had no idea, how long has this been going on?"

He shrugged non-committal, "Since they took you to Brittany."

She put down the spring she had been cleaning and searched for the right words, "I've been back for seven weeks now, though."

Jason made an impatient gesture for her to continue cleaning the parts of her hand-gun; she immediately resumed what she had been doing. His lack of rest also meant that he could easily lose his temper. She did not say anything, giving him the choice to elaborate or not.

"Maybe my body just got used to not sleeping Nicky, I don't know but it's fine, I've got a job in a couple days' time and another one next week. I always sleep well when I've got an assignment."

Nicky started to re-assemble her weapon, she wanted to tell him that it was unhealthy and that this job was taking its toll on him in ways that he could not have imagined when he signed up. Ways that hurt her to have a front-row seat to, but what would be the point?

He would only get angry at her for reminding him that she had known him, albeit briefly and not that well, before he had become Treadstone Assassin Extraordinaire. Angry at her for suggesting that he quit while he was ahead, leave and do something else. Which in turn would make him angry at her for reminding him that he was caught in a web of his own making and one from which he could not easily extricate himself out of and hope to live. It was a well known fact that assassins for black ops programmes only got out if they died or blackmailed someone high up enough in the intelligence service hierarchy or political arena. The third option was to go dark, off the grid and live your life on the run always looking over your shoulder but if she was going to be honest with herself what would Jason Bourne have to live for other than the killing? A shudder of cold panic rippled down her spine.

Conklin and Treadstone had taken so much out of him that what would be left if he no longer had his purpose as per Treadstone dictates? Could this man live in the world like a normal person, settle down with a wife and kids? And if he could what about Nicky? Where would that leave her in the grand scheme of things? Would she follow him wherever he went or merely stand by and watch the chips fall where they may? Her stomach heaved in reaction to the thought of being complicit in anything that involved hurting Jason. Was she tied to Jason because of Tristan, the son he did not know existed or was it because she herself had lost herself at some point between assassination victim number 10 and 208? Was she any better than him? She did the research, set up the logistics, had the inches thick files on each target and she distilled days worth of information into a single order. For Jason, for the Professor, for Castel at some point, for Sacha and dozens others, on sheer numbers alone she was responsible for hundreds of deaths. The question then was, who was the real monster, Jason or her?

"Close your eyes." Jason ordered her softly, as he walked up behind her and blindfolded her.

She did as he asked, taking a deep anxious breath. The blindfold reminded her of Munich, and right now she did not want to think about that and the other facet of her personality it had shown her.

"When I say go, you have to dissemble and reassemble your weapon as fast as you can. Load the magazine and when I pull the blindfold off, hit the bulls-eye three times in five seconds. Got it?"

Nicky nodded wordlessly, nervous tension coiled tightly in her belly and arms.

"Go!"

Nicky's hands picked up the Glock and dissembled it rapidly. Setting the pieces down in order, she quickly reassembled the gun and loaded the full magazine, keeping the safety on. Jason yanked the blindfold up and Nicky jumped up, blinking rapidly to clear her vision as she raised her weapon, she cocked it and released the safety. Her right eye on the sighter she discharged the weapon three times within the five second window he had given her.

"Stop!"

Nicky flicked the safety catch back up and emptied the chamber before putting her gun down. Jason walked over to the target, motioning for Nicky to join him; she walked unsteadily, the adrenaline having left her system, and followed him. He pointed at the bull's eye where two bullets had overlapped each other and then one bullet slightly to the right of the other two but still in the bull.

"Great job Nicky, see the way your bullets are clustered? It means you're a natural," Jason told her with pride.

Nicky just stared blankly at the holes in the target, then reached into her hair, pulling the blindfold off completely she stared at it in her hand. Her breath came out in harsh bursts as she thought to herself that she had not needed it. She was always in the dark and somewhere along the way she had developed night-vision.

------xxx----

After they cleaned up the warehouse, Nicky and Jason sat down to eat the bread, cheeses and wine he had brought. Nicky stifled the spurt of irritation that coursed through her at the way he just assumed she would eat something _he_ had brought after the 'Chilli Incident'.

Nicky drank her third glass of wine with a tourniquet around her heart, why did being with Jason have to be so hard? And did she really even have a choice anymore?

"Whenever I sleep, I keep having the same dream." Jason said softly.

Nicky started, snapping out of her thoughts she turned focused brown eyes on him. Intense blue eyes met hers; there was a candid vulnerability in them. Mesmerized, Nicky found herself unable to look away and afford him a chance to mask his emotions.

"What do you dream about?"

"Of myself as I am now, and of myself… before I joined Treadstone, when I was still… someone else."

Nicky's eyes softened, "And what happens?"

"The other me, is on an island, a tiny little oasis in the middle of the ocean. The water begins to rise and drowns the other me, while I watch from the top of a cliff," Jason explained.

"How do you feel about watching your other self drown in the dream?"

His lips twisted in a cold smile, "I don't feel anything… I don't care."

Nicky kept her expression open, noticing how he was watching her for some type of judgmental reaction.

"Then what happens?"

Jason took a deep breath which belied his detached body language, "Other me begs me with his eyes to save him… I don't… then the water rises and he starts to drown, while I watch."

His eyes were turned inward now, right hand clenched into a fist as he continued, "Just when he's almost dead, I too start to drown despite the fact that I am standing on solid ground. I wake up just as I die."

Nicky did something she had not felt like doing for a while now, she sidled closer to him and covered his clenched fist with her own hand, offering comfort. He looked down at her and she blinked in encouragement.

"How long have you been having this dream?"

His initial reaction was to lie but he quashed it, "I had it a few times after I joined Treadstone but it never got as far as the drowning until this year… the first time I dreamt the full dream was the night I fucked up Jean-Paul then it did not come back until you went to Brittany. I've had it every time I fall asleep since then."

He watched her face closely as she took in what he had said. She was lost in thought but her hand continued to cover his, absently she stroked his forearm soothingly. Jason wanted to curl up into her, clinging onto her small frame like a drowning man clung to a life-raft and hope that she was enough to drive his demons away. Internally he scowled at the thought, how did he even start thinking of her as so vital to his well-being? That was a dangerous thought and one an asset could not afford to have. He extricated his arm from her gently, and then stood up, putting some distance between them. Nicky watched him pick up their used plates and take them to the sink. She felt bereft.

"So _Dr._ Parsons, what would you recommend? Am I losing it?"

She got up and cleared the empty wine bottle as well as cheese rinds. Putting them in the trash can she turned and walked up so she was standing right in front of him. Running her hands up his arms she let them rest on his shoulders, anchoring him to the spot she stared deeply into his eyes.

"You're not losing it… I don't know what it means but I can assure you that you will never actually die in your dreams, if you were to die in your dreams you would die in real life. In the meantime, we need to find you something that will temporarily solve your insomnia."

"And the headaches," he added matter-of-factly.

Nicky's arms dropped from his shoulders and settled on his forearms as she took a step back from him, "Are the headaches coming hand-in-hand with the nightmare?"

Jason turned away, her arms falling uselessly at her sides she took another step back. He opened the hot water faucet and squirted some dishwashing liquid on a blue sponge, "You mean the dream? Yeah… they do… pass me the wine glasses please?"

The last part was posed as a request but it was an order, an order which also signalled the end of the discussion about his nightmare. She gave an inward sigh as she turned to do as asked, wondering despondently how she could help him.

--------------xxx--------

4 August 2002

Jason detached himself from the shadows and stalked the Chinese guy following Nicky as she walked along the bridge over the Seine. She was on her way home after evening Mass at the Cathédral de Nôtre Dame. He wondered for the umpteenth time why she always insisted on attending Mass there when there were other Catholic churches closer to her studio. He wondered why she still bothered with religion at all anyway. After all the things she had seen and done after joining Treadstone it was inconceivable to him that she still put much stock in religion. David Webb had never been devout but he had taken all the Catholic Holy Sacraments; First Communion, Second Holy Communion, etc. After he went to West Point he had attended church irregularly then stopped altogether once he had become a Green Beret. He had still worn the cross his parents had given him after his First Communion until he had joined Treadstone.

Nicky stopped and looked over her shoulder just as the Chinese guy bumped into her causing her to lose her footing. She let out a yelp of surprise and he reached to help steady her. Before he could do anything else Jason had hauled him off her, throwing the smaller man over his shoulder.

"Ne la touche pas, Cogne!" He yelled at the man.

Jason swiftly kicked the man in the ribs twice then leaned down to wrap his hands around his throat, one swift punch in the face then an elbow to the side of the head knocked him out. Turning to a shocked Nicky he wrapped his bloodied right hand around her upper arm and dragged her away from the bleeding man. Seconds later when Nicky glanced back she saw a Chinese woman and her two kids throw themselves at the prostate man, screaming for help. She turned back to Jason who grimly pushed her down one of the dark staircases that would lead them into an alley. He set a rapid pace and it was only when they were far away from the scene on the bridge that he stopped in another dark alley.

Slumping against the wall, Nicky took in deep gulps of air and stared at Jason accusingly. He stood there watching her with detached disinterest.

"What?"

Nicky blinked in shock, "What do you mean _what_!? You just _attacked_ that guy for _no reason_!"

"He was going to hurt you," Jason said slowly like he was speaking to a simple person.

"No, Jason he wasn't. That was his _wife_ _and kids_ crying over him, the guy was in a hurry to meet them after Mass because he had gone to the wrong church!"

"I saw him tailing you and then when he pretended to bump into you I suspected he was going to stab you."

Nicky closed her eyes and prayed for strength, "No Jason, you _thought_ that but he _wasn't_ going to hurt me. He's just a civilian going about his civilian life. Are we attacking innocent civilians now?"

"How do you know that he was an innocent civilian?"

"I just do!"

"So what you think that all bad guys go around looking like Castel?" Jason sneered.

Nicky tried to get a rein on her temper, "No, they don't have to look like Castel when they _are_ Castel and no I don't believe that only assets can do me harm but that does not mean I have to go suspecting _every single person_ I don't know of being out to hurt me."

"That's cause you have the luxury of being protected by me Nicky but what happens when I'm not there or dead!?"

She glowered at him, "What is the _matter_ with you!? The guy was a _civilian_, you _attacked_ him for _no good reason_ and you can't even bring yourself to admit that you were wrong!"

Jason shrugged with indifference, "So I got it wrong this time. How many times have I got it right? And I didn't hear you complaining when you were attacked in your apartment."

She blinked in horrified shock, who the Hell was this person and what had he done with the Jason she had grown to know and love? Okay so maybe she did not know even that Jason very well, but she knew him better than anyone else did, that counted for something right?

"Jason-"

He leaned in and grabbed her left arm, shaking her violently as he hissed, "Keep your fucking voice down you'll get us blown!"

Nicky's head snapped backwards like a rag-doll and she felt all her pent up rage spring up and pour out of her.

"Let go of me you crazy sonofabitch!" She slapped him hard across the face for good measure.

He released her and took a step back, staring at her with two predatory blue orbs of intense fire.

"What is the matter with you!?" She whispered vehemently.

He shrugged, "What do you mean?"

"You don't see anything wrong with what happened tonight do you?"

His silence was pregnant with meaning.

Nicky swallowed convulsively, "Oh My God! Jason, you're not the man I thought you were. You're changing, turning into something grotesque right in front of me and I'm not helping you like I thought… I-I- I _can't _handle this anymore, I just can't."

She threw her hands up in defeat and picking up her purse which had fallen on the ground at some stage during their tussle, turned to leave.

Jason felt a wave of despair crash against his ribcage, he stepped forward and grabbed her with both hands, turning her around to face him. She did not struggle, choosing to stare at him with sad brown eyes.

"Do you want to know what your dream means?"

He stared at her silently, his hands flexing convulsively on her shoulders.

"It means you're turning into a monster and if you do not embrace some good or keep some piece of yourself untouched by all the blood and gore _you will die_, you'll end up _dead_, Jason." She spoke quietly and forcefully hoping that maybe this would get through to him.

"I deal with you assets all the time, when I speak to you at the safe house or before a mission you are so cold and remote. I don't know if it's just your way of psyching yourself up or coping with your job but you are. You were right, it is like you're a machine, cold and formidable and so very efficient. There are other assets who are like that, _were_ like that I mean. 'Cause you see Jason, the ones that are _just_ machines have a very short life-span. But sometimes Jason… sometimes when you're training me you _forget_ to be so removed and we have a good time. You remember to smile a couple times in one day... But I've noticed something, Jason, I've noticed that whenever you feel yourself actually assuming human emotions and reactions to things or people, namely _me_, you shut down and you push me away."

He continued to stare at her; if his chest hadn't been rising and falling she would think it was a wax-doll holding her. Nicky felt a sob of all the pain she had been suppressing well up in her chest.

"You push me away, for making you feel anything good, Jason. You push me away and you _punish_ me for it. I didn't ask for this Jason, I didn't ask for you to get involved with me. I didn't ask for you to _beat up_ my normal boyfriend within an inch of his life and I sure as Hell didn't make you join Treadstone. _You_ did that, for your own reasons and for whatever you believed in. But its still _me_ who pays. One way or another _I pay_ and I can't take it anymore!"

She shrugged his hands off her and stepped away, he drew her back to him, wrapping his arms around her from behind, he buried his face in the crook of her neck. She could feel his heartbeat racing to catch up with her own galloping heart.

"Nicky, _please_ don't do this." He whispered into her ear.

She felt herself swaying, her hands reaching up to cover his forearms as they rested like silken bonds across her chest.

"Jason, I can't be your emotional punching bag anymore, it's _killing_ me and it's preventing you from curbing some of your excesses. I've gone from handler to enabler."

He pressed his face into her neck even harder, inhaling the warm, _Clinique Happy_ scented skin. He pulled away and rested his chin on her shoulder, still holding her close.

"You're not my punching bag. You're _my_ Nicole, my plucky Nicky. You've got it all wrong, it's just the job. I'll be doing my job but the man I really am is all yours, he belongs to you and only you."

"But I don't know you… not really, Jason I don't even know your real name," Nicky protested.

Jason's arms tightened around her, "What's in a name, Nicky? If a rose were to be called anything but a rose would it not still smell as sweet?"

She felt herself weaken, smiling a little despite herself, "Shakespeare, huh? You're bringing out the big guns tonight."

"Whatever it takes."

Nicky stiffened, that was one of Conklin's favorite expressions, her flagging resolve strengthened once again.

"So what happens if Big Daddy Conklin finds out about you and me? When he finds out that you have been training me and that you have been sleeping with me?" It felt good to put her worst fears into words; she turned in his arms and looked him in the eyes.

He frowned at her in confusion, "Conklin won't find out, I won't let that happen."

"But what if he does? What if he does and worst case scenario, he orders someone to take me out?"

"I'd stop him or her, you know that Nicky."

She nodded in acceptance of that statement then taking a deep breath said, "And what if he orders _you_ to do it Jason? What then?"

He froze in shock, he had not anticipated that question nor had he anticipated his own reaction. _What would he do?_ Would he do it? Would he pretend to do it? Would he turn on Conklin? What if Conklin found out and created some kind of story about how Nicky was a double-agent or how she had betrayed them, betrayed Treadstone. Would he do it then? And if he didn't, what then? What would happen to Nicky? What would happen to him? Would he leave all of this behind and live a life on the run with her? Was he even capable of existing without all the drugs, the assignments, the intensive new ways they came up with to train assets that challenged Jason in every way he knew? Jason realized that not only did he not know the answer but the doubts this question raised, the challenge to what he had assumed was his unswerving loyalty to Treadstone made him resent Nicky for bringing it up in the first place.

He focused confused eyes on her face. She did not look confused, or surprised, she looked heartbroken and strangely enough, relieved. His eyes narrowed at her.

"Thank you for _all_ that you have done for me, for _training_ me, for _protecting_ me, all of it but I think you've taught me all you can. You were right about the farmer and the socialite, after all, we've come to the end of the road."

He merely stared at her as she hitched her purse straps on her shoulder then disappeared into the shadows of the alley. He remained standing there as the sounds of her footsteps quieted then were gone altogether. A rat scurried across his feet and he crushed it with one well aimed stomp of his booted heel. The squeaking sound of anguish it made and the sound of its bones crunching made him flinch. He had not realize how quiet it had become since Nicky walked away from him. He supposed he should get used to it; darkness and death were his only true loyal companions. Jason looked around the small alley then down at his clenched fists which he stuffed into his jacket pockets. With one last look around he hunched his shoulders then walked away from the scene of the latest deaths by his hand.

------xxx----------

18 August 2002

Nicky watched Jacques and Louisa as they danced to their wedding song in the crowded hall in Limoges. Louisa's red hair was currently dyed an eggplant purple, she had cut it into a page-boy haircut and looked like a curvy pixie in her vanilla cream colored, empire-waist Versace dress. Her veil had been discarded after the ceremony and she had a circlet of white daisies resting precariously on her crown. Jacques looked dashing in a vanilla cream colored Karl Lagerfield suit, his own hair was completely shaved off because Louisa did not want anyone confusing the bride as the groom. How anyone would think the one wearing the dress was the groom was beyond Nicky but that was what the couple had decided. Jacques whirled Louisa around then gleefully dipped her over his arm, Louisa shrieked with bright laughter as Jacques showered her throat with kisses.

Looking down at her lilac purple bridesmaid dress Nicky felt a stab of pain in her chest, her breath hitching in her throat and heart-rate accelerating as she reminded herself that her and Jason were through. She had put her foot down, physically won her freedom from him but she had flown straight into an emotional prison, made out of bars of secrecy and loneliness. It had been two weeks since the incident on the Seine. Thankfully the Chinese man had only been injured; he would walk again after some physiotherapy. She had not seen Jason since that night, and had taken a week off to help with the final preparations of Jacques and Louisa's wedding. Danny had come back to Paris to cover for her. He had also brought with him two specific missions for Jason and a file on Castel.

The latter had been given to her as an 'early Christmas present'. When Nicky had tried to ask him about it he had just told her to 'go home, open, read then destroy it like I forgot to do'. Nicky had done as she was told. Sitting on her bed, she had opened the file that explained that the DNA and blood samples taken on the night of the assault had proven it was Castel. The file had also detailed how Conklin had ordered Castel to be reprogrammed while he convalesced. The last progress report from the week before said Castel was physically fit as a fiddle again and had even gone on an assignment in Croatia and come back, mission accomplished. His new handler was a seasoned Italian veteran who had worked for the CIA for more than 20 years and he did not anticipate any problems with the 'asset'.

Nicky thought back to how Conklin had sent her flowers every other day while she was at the hospital in Brittany. She also remembered how he had taken her for target practice twice when he had come back to Paris after her cast had been removed. She also remembered what he had said on her first day back to work since Castel assaulted her. With a bone-weary sigh, she had realized he had played her and there was no way she would ever confront him about it. Picking up a lighter she flicked it getting ready to burn the file, then a thought hit her. Before she even knew what she was doing, she had scanned the pages then saved them under a password locked file on her laptop. Taking out that hard drive she inserted the work hard-drive and hid the backup one in one of her books. On her way to Limoges she had secured it in a safe deposit box she had in St. Rémy.

Snapping back to the present Nicky accepted another glass of champagne from one of the waiters doing the rounds in the hall. One of the grooms-men, Jacques' cousin, Marcel sidled up to her, tapped her on the shoulder then executed a deep bow.

"Celina, ca suffit, do not torture me any longer, I beg you! Whomever zis man who eez making you the sad, ee ees not worth it. Ne t'inquiete pas, I weel danse with you all night and when we are done we can get married if that ees what you want," he spoke with a thick accent.

Nicky smiled at his goofy charm and took his proffered hand, letting him sweep her onto the dance-floor just as the band started to play Gloria Estefan's, '_Let's Get Loud_'.

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2 September 2002

Jason went through his final checklist for the Nykwana Wombosi mission. Tomorrow morning he would set off first thing for Marseilles. John Michael Kane was ready to go and do his part to keep America safe.

Satisfied that everything would go according to plan, Jason looked out his window wistfully and wondered what Nicky was doing right now. Her university friends had gotten married last month and they were still on their honeymoon in Africa. Classes did not begin for another week so he guessed she was hard at work at the safe house getting her files in order.

He had seen her four days ago at the safe house for the standard bi-monthly check-up. Nothing in her body language, her eyes or her face had betrayed that they had ever been anything more than asset and handler to each other. The asset and the trainer in Jason had been impressed by her composure. After he had left Jason had waited for her to finish before following her to the gym where she had worked out until she could barely stand with exhaustion. He had patiently waited for her to shower and change before tracking her all the way back to her studio. Certain that she was safe and sound he had disappeared back into the shadows. The vigor she had shown at the gym told him more than tears or tantrums that she was hurting too. It was a balm to Jason's troubled soul.

Now, as he got ready to go to sleep Jason realized he was wide awake. Nicky's words to him that last night in the alley haunted him every waking moment and even during the few hours a day he managed to sleep. The challenge posed to him over what he would do if Conklin found out about them and ordered Jason to kill her, would not leave him alone. Some days he would dismiss the question completely; other days he would have an internal debate about whether or not Nicky mattered to him more than Treadstone. One thing that stayed the same though was that every day since she had extricated herself from his personal life, Jason heard and felt the deafening silence surrounding him like it was a physical being. He also felt the pressing weight of loneliness pushing in on him from all angles. He now appreciated that there had been a sense of camaraderie and companionship in knowing Nicky was there for him. Although she had never put it into words, she had shown him in 101 different ways that she loved him. Now with her absence Jason also appreciated that _she _had been the strong one, propping him up and supporting him through some of his darkest hours and needs. The fact alone that the unpredictable and excruciating headaches were now his most loyal and daily companion, proved that Nicky had had a huge positive and steadying influence on him.

John Michael Kane's cell phone beeped with a message and Jason flipped it open, clicking on the open button. It was his contact in Marseilles.

'_N.W. on the yacht with his wife and kids all week._'

Jason flipped the phone shut as he revised his modus operandi for the mission. He would wait until a little later in the evening to make sure the kids were asleep. They were too young for an expert like him to make them collateral damage. He took the phone battery and SIM card out of the phone and destroyed them, they had fulfilled their purpose. Tomorrow was D-Day. He went into the bathroom; brushed and flossed his teeth then got rid of the used dental floss. Washing his hands in the sink he glanced up and stared at himself in the mirror. He heard a woman's voice, his mother's voice asking,_** "Who and what have you become!?**_ He shook his head in irritation, the woman had been dead for eight years now, how dare she come and haunt him now so late in the game!? He glared at his reflection.

"_**You're turning into a monster… you're going to die. You're going to end up dead."**_ He heard Nicky say to him again. Jason brought his fist up and smashed the mirror, his reflection fragmented into dozens of pieces. Numbly, he ran the cold water over his bloodied fist and wondered to himself what it all meant. The pain he actually felt was in his chest and his head, he felt close to nothing on his cut knuckles. Irritably he thought to himself if he was such a monster why was he going to wait until Wombosi's children were asleep before he pegged the motherfucker off? He wished he could ask Nicky that question; he would love to see her fall of her high horse and realize she had made a mistake, realize that she had misjudged him. Jason cleaned the mirror fragments and the blood off on auto-pilot, too distracted by the thought of confronting Nicky. When he was done, he crept out of the hotel room, scaling the wall outside his room; he made his way down onto the street then hailed a cab to Nicky's neighborhood. He just wanted to see the look on her face when she realized she had made a mistake, to shut up her voice that was haunting him 24/7 then he could go back to his room and finally get some real sleep.

-----------xxx---------

Nicky's eyes were luminously large as she watched Jason climb into her studio in the dark. She shook with nervous anticipation and mentally slapped herself for anticipating anything. They were no longer together, boundaries had to be drawn, and he could not just climb into her bedroom like some broken, tormented assassin Romeo to her awkward and starved for love handler Juliet. She raised her silver Sig and pointed it at his chest, cocking the weapon as his feet soundlessly touched the floorboards.

"You shouldn't be here," Nicky whispered tremulously.

He grinned internally as the weapon gleamed in the dark, didn't she know better than to use a weapon that was easily discernible on someone like him? Jason raised his hands and then walked towards her slowly; he was like an animal stalking its prey. He gloried in the sensation of power that unfurled in his blood as he drew nearer. His eyes glowed in the dark, his lips twisting in a feral grin, he approached the bed. Nicky watched his eyes cautiously; realizing when it was too late that he had slid the safety catch back on her gun, released the magazine and tossed it on the floor in one fluid move. He emptied the bullet in the chamber then handed her back the gun, palming and pocketing the bullet. Nicky glared at him.

"I could still hit you in the face with it."

He chuckled dryly and presented her face to him, "Go ahead but I'm not leaving."

She gripped the gun tightly and tried to steel herself so she could hit him with it. She let it drop slackly from her hand at stared at him warily.

"What do you want Jason?"

He did not respond, dipping one knee on the bed he turned her around so that she was facing away from him and pushed her down, so that her head was pillowed by his left arm. His right arm covered her body and held her as close to him as he could. Nicky brought one hand up behind her and cupped his face briefly, he turned his cheek into her open palm and kissed it. Her lids fluttered shut in pain as she pulled her hand away and sliding it over his forearm, covered his hand with hers. They lay like that for a half hour until Jason fell asleep. Nicky sighed deeply in her chest relieved to hear his breathing deepen and his heart-beat slow down. She absently stroked his arm in a light caress as she asked God for the millionth time how everything had become so fucked up.

She needed the bathroom, so she disengaged herself from Jason and padded her way to the small water closet which housed a toilet, a sink and tiny shower stall. Flushing the toilet she stared at her eyes in the mirror, the circles around them were dark and huge without the cover of concealer. Breaking up with Jason was not supposed to have exacerbated her fatigue and unhappiness! Giving her reflection the finger, she stepped out of the bathroom and switched the light off. Not before she noticed that Jason was wide awake and sitting up in her bed, under the covers. He must have taken off his shoes when he woke up. She got back into bed, her eyes widened in surprise, not only had he divested himself of his shoes but he had taken off his jeans as well. Jason sank back into the mattress with her, this time it was Nicky's arms around Jason.

He knew he should say something, open his lips and form words but something more powerful than him kept his jaw clamped shut. 'I want you back in my life!' The voice in his head screamed for Nicky to hear.

'I want to tell you I'm sorry I accused you of trying to poison me. I want to say I'm sorry for not helping that Romanian trafficker, for not killing Castel when I had the chance, for lying to you about not knowing who he was, for driving away your boyfriend for all the wrong reasons, for not according you the same respect you give me, for not trusting you as much as you trust me, for not being able to do right thing and get us both far away from Treadstone and Conklin. I want to say I'm sorry for hurting you, I want to beg you to forgive me and I want to ask you to please never stop loving me. The man I used to be would have loved you and cherished you like you deserved. The man I have become was never taught how to love during training. The man I am was baptized in neon-lights, blood and screams, expelled out of the womb of an ugly beast fully grown with a gun in my hand and operational. Please understand that if I could remember how to, I know I could love you too.'

Nicky pulled the covers over them then leaned up and kissed his temple. The voice within felt vindicated, she had heard its muffled screams and that one kiss had granted absolution. Jason let out an audible sigh of contentment and she smiled slightly against the broad expanse of his back. Seconds later he was fast asleep and it did not take her long to follow suit.

----------xxx-----------

Nicky propped her head up on her hand and watched Jason do up the buttons on his jeans then pull on his socks and sneakers. When he was done, he picked up her Sig and put the magazine back in the gun, safety on he handed it to her, butt first. Their fingers touched briefly, a jolt of electricity they both felt causing Nicky to drop the gun. Jason held onto her hand and the gun tightly, forcing her to look up at him.

"Get yourself a less shiny gun, remember the element of surprise can make all the difference," Jason said softly, his tone carrying a hint of warning.

She met his eyes as he leaned in and kissed the top of her head before pulling away. Nicky dropped her eyes in confused disappointment. _That_ was all he could think to say to her after last night?

When she looked back up at him; Jason was already climbing out her window.

Glancing at her clock radio Nicky noted it was only 5:05 a.m. so she fell back in the bed and covered her face with a pillow, she muffled her scream of helpless frustration. Turning over she covered her head with it and willed herself to go back to sleep. When sleep reclaimed her at last she had no way of knowing this was the last morning she would wake up with her world the right side up.

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A/Post-note: Happy Holidays, catch y'all after Boxing Day!


	10. Chapter 10 Gone

_There's a thousand words that I could say_

_To make you come home_

_Seems so long ago you walked away _

_And left me alone_

_And I remember what you said to me _

_You were acting so strange_

_Maybe I was too blind to see that you needed a change_

_Was it something I said to make you turn away,_

_To make you walk out and leave me cold_

_If I could just find a way _

_To make it so that you were right here, right now_ – **Gone**, N'Sync

**GONE**

10 September 2002

Nicky paced up, down and around her studio, she kept cracking knuckles and taking deep breaths in a bid to stop the galloping hollow organ in her chest from sending her into cardiac arrest. Wombosi was still alive, Jason had not returned from Marseille and he had not contacted her or Conklin in Langley. She was getting ready to get in her car and speed down to Marseille herself. Two things stopped her; one it was against protocol and two what if she got there and blew his cover, or put him in some kind of jeopardy?

She cracked her thumb knuckle and yowled in pain as the joint gave in reluctantly. Waving her hand frantically in the air, Nicky turned to the television, channel-surfing until she was on the Cartoon Network. Looney Tunes was on. She sat on her bed and tried to distract herself with the animated pictures, five minutes later, Bugs Bunny's loud voice prompted Nicky to hurl her pillow at the screen in annoyance. How the Hell could Jason stand cartoons? Reaching for her remote control she turned off the television and jumped off the bed. Pulling on some sneakers, a hooded sweat-shirt and a jean jacket, Nicky picked up her Sig and tucked into the special holster Jason had bought her after he had seen Conklin's gift. Strapping on the holster underneath all her layers of clothing, Nicky pulled up the hood on her sweatshirt, picked up her house and safe-house keys, stuffed some cash in her pockets then left the apartment with a sturdy bang of her door.

-------xx--------

That night, Nicky could not sleep, all she could see was Jason coming in through her window the night before he left on the mission, his heart in his eyes begging her not to push him away. Facing her window she stared at the blinds willing them to move and reveal an exhausted but otherwise unharmed Jason climbing into her apartment. She fell asleep waiting.

17 September 2002

The song was refusing to come out right, the emotion that Chopin's '_Nocturne in G minor'_ was supposed to evoke were nostalgic sadness, but as she played the song for the umpteenth time it still came out flat.

Just this morning, Conklin had instructed Nicky to send a clean up crew to the hotel Jason had been staying at while he posed as John Michael Kane. When Nicky had spoken to Danny Zorn he had explained that Conklin wanted them to presume Jason was dead because he had been gone for too long. It had been all Nicky could do to keep it together and not scream at them for giving up so easily. When she had done her part, Nicky had run home, seeking solace in being surrounded by things that all held positive memories of Jason. Remembering the day they had played '_Fur Elise_' together Nicky had sat down at the piano and just started playing different songs, finally settling on '_Nocturne_'.

She sighed in frustration and blew her hair out of her eyes, flexing her feet on the pedals she decided to play Mozart's '_7__th__ Symphony'_ then come back to Chopin. Nicky cracked her knuckles comically over the keys then launched into the music. She did not need sheet music for what Grandma Margaret called the 'Classic Staples'. She knew them as well as she knew her ABCs.

When she finished playing the song, stray strands of hair flying around her face and her cheeks flushed from the energetic vigor with which she had played the song, she bowed her head to an imaginary maestro. Pushing away from the piano she swiveled on the stool to find the Professor standing by her bathroom door. Nicky froze in shock, she blinked a couple times to make sure that she really was seeing what she was seeing. The figure remained where he was.

The sound of her blood rushing in her ears was deafening as she thought this was going to be a replay of the Castel attack. Where was her gun!? How could she have taken it out of her holster!?

The Professor moved towards her in measured steps, he shrugged apologetically as he took his gloves off and stuffed them in his pocket.

"I apologize for frightening you, but I assure you I mean no harm."

Nicky's eyes were as wide as saucers as she tried to cease her panicked breath from whistling out of her nostrils like a tea kettle that had reached boiling point. These guys were like animals it never did to show fear, or feel it because they could sense it. Even if that fear was so debilitating you felt like you had over-cooked spaghetti noodles for bones.

The Professor stopped a safe distance away from her and gestured at one of her kitchen chairs, visible through the open door.

"May I?"

Nicky found herself nodding despite the fact that her brain was screaming, 'Hell No! Get the fuck out of my house now!'

The Professor strode into her kitchen then lifted one of her chairs, carrying it into the main room. He set it a couple feet away from Nicky, by the piano, turning it to face her. He motioned towards the chair and Nicky inclined her head, granting him permission to sit down. He sat, the hem and a good portion of the bottom half of his overcoat, sweeping the shiny floorboards.

"I must say I was and am very impressed by the way you play the piano and I was wondering if it was not too much trouble you could play '_Nocturne in G minor_' again, I think I could help you with the tricky bit."

Nicky blinked like a deer caught in headlights, there was no way on God's green earth that this conversation was actually happening was there? This man who was one of Treadstone's top five assassins, was not actually offering to help her with her piano playing technique was he? Who would believe that this had really just happened? Well then again, it was too bizarre not to be true. The Professor cleared his throat and Nicky realized how rude she was being just gawping at the man like a simpleton.

"Oh God, I'm so sorry, I just… I didn't expect to find you standing in my apartment like that, and I really didn't expect to hear you say… what you said. Forgive my total manners relapse, may I offer you some tea?" Nicky was babbling as she jumped up from her seat and dithered to the kitchen, the last bit of her sentence was thrown over her shoulder.

The Professor's lips twisted in an ironic smirk and he turned in his seat so he could watch her as she put water in the electric kettle and set it on its base. She was dressed in faded blue jeans and a baby pink cashmere sweater, her thick blonde hair plaited in a loose French braid and her bare feet peeking from under the hem of her jeans, the toes painted a bright red. The Professor understood exactly what it was about her that attracted men of a predatory nature. Especially when she presented such a cool, collected exterior when acting in her capacity as handler, any man great or small given a glimpse of the undoubtedly molten interior that simmered below, as evidenced by the way she played the piano, would be hard-pressed not to be tempted. Plus she was very, very young playing a grown and experienced man game.

Opening a cupboard, Nicky took down some tea bags then put them on a plate, arranging them in a semi-circular fan pattern. Then she opened another cupboard and pulled out a box of Terry's Jaffa Cakes she had bought at the grocery store in Brittany when she was convalescing after the Castel attack.

Now why had she thought of that? Just when she had been regaining her composure she had to go and freak herself out like that. The water had boiled and Nicky thought darkly about how she could probably pour boiling water on the Professor and get to her gun before he could hurt her.

Unplugging the kettle, Nicky turned in the Professor's direction but he was standing right behind her. She screamed in fright and pushing her away, he grabbed the kettle from her before she scalded them both. The splash of boiling hot water landed harmlessly on the floor. Nicky's eyes widened in nervous distrust as the Professor walked over to the kitchen table and set it down on the surface.

"So many different teas to choose from," he remarked thoughtfully.

Nicky gave herself a mental headshake and approached the table warily.

"I didn't know if you would prefer Earl Grey or English Breakfast then I realised I had some Oolong, Chamomile and Green Tea as well. Thought you would prefer to choose for yourself."

The Professor nodded, settling on the Earl Grey, he turned to her inquisitively.

"What about you?"

"English Breakfast please," Nicky hated the way her voice came out so meekly.

The Professor nodded in approval and handed her the teabag. She ripped open the packaging and dropped the bag in her empty mug. Wrapping the string around the handle, she went to her cutlery drawer, producing two spoons she turned back to the kitchen table. She handed the Professor one spoon and used the other to put three sugars in her mug before giving the waiting English man permission to pour hot water over the tea-bag. Holding her hand up when it was 2/3 full, Nicky pivoted and opened the fridge, she set the carton of milk on the table, then kicked the fridge door shut gently with her left foot.

The Professor had spooned two sugars into his cup, poured the hot water in, and then placed the teabag last. Nicky in the meantime splashed a healthy amount of milk in her tea then stirred it silently, like her mother had taught her. When they were both done stirring their tea they set their spoons down on the plate with the unopened teabags. Nicky picked up the box of Jaffa Cakes and looked at the Professor questioningly. He nodded with a genuine smile on his face, accepting the box from her. Nicky was stunned, three years as his handler and this was the second time she had ever seen him smile. It transformed his face.

Silently they moved back to the main room, Nicky, her back to the piano placed a newspaper on the stool then sat down, placing her mug next to her. The Professor sat in the chair, setting his mug on the floor, he tore into the box of Jaffa Cakes, looking like he must have when he was a little boy as he savored the tangy flavor of the biscuits.

Nicky silently watched him, wondering when was the last time the man had had some genuine human contact with anyone other than his students? It struck her again how important Jason's interaction with her had been for his peace of mind. She thought of how she had basically told him to stay away from her and winced internally. She had also told him he was going to die and now he had been missing for a week. The horrific images of Jason injured or dead somewhere under the sea which had been assaulting Nicky with their ever-increasing frequency as the days had stretched into a week, flashed through her mind. She shut her eyes then opened them again to find the Professor watching her. He had drained his mug of its contents and rose to remove his over-coat, which he hung on the hook behind her door. Turning back to her he resumed his seat. He was always so well-mannered and always spoke eloquently. Nicky mentally reviewed his file, the man had been educated at Eton, graduated from Oxbridge, had served in the British military, MI5 and SAS before being recruited by Treadstone. Although he was well-educated he came from a poor family in the East End of London and his entire educational history had been funded by scholarships.

Nicky picked up her mug and took a big sip of tea, it was too cool for her liking now; she made a face. The Professor bit back a smile.

"It's your flat; you don't have to force yourself to drink your own bloody tea."

Nicky swallowed the tepid brew with chagrin, "Good point… thank you."

She rose and took both their mugs to the kitchen, setting them in the sink. She washed her hands then wiped them on a towel. She walked back to the piano and sat down on the bench, hands gracefully poised over the keys.

"You wanted to hear me play _Nocturne in G minor_, see where I was going wrong, so here we go." Nicky said brightly.

She started to play the song, initially conscious of the Professor's presence and his critical ears attuned to her, then as she progressed, his soft words of encouragement emboldened her and she played the song the way it was supposed to be played.

When the last note rang in the studio, Nicky turned around to face the Professor with excitement. She raised her hands in the air in victory and let out a little shout of joy. The Professor chuckled, surprising both Nicky and himself with the deep and jovial sound.

"Your memory and feel for the music is exceptional, you already know the instrument very well. It's just a matter of attuning your mind, heart and soul together to elicit the perfectly unified sound."

Nicky nodded taking on what he was saying on board.

"And easy on the pedal sometimes, luv, it's not a car now is it?"

Nicky smiled shyly as she blushed at his criticism, she also noticed the Cockney roots were starting to show meaning that he had lowered his guard, something that had never happened before.

"Would you like to play something?" Nicky offered generously.

The Professor raised his hand, shaking his head, "Oh no thanks darlin', came to see you for something else, just got distracted when I heard then saw you play."

Nicky stiffened wondering if he was going to try hurt and kill her now.

"What is it? Is it the headaches? Is something wrong?"

The Professor fixed very serious, very chilling blue eyes on her, why did all of the assets that scared her the most seem to have blue eyes?

"No, it's not the headaches, it's about Bourne."

Nicky kept her face impassive, "Who's Bourne?"

The Professor smiled coldly, "The American asset based here, I think."

"You think?"

"Well, I don't know the man personally," he shrugged.

Nicky's eyes widened, "How do you even know that his name's Bourne?"

The Professor gave her a knowing look.

She mentally shrugged, then leaned forward on the bench, "Do you know something about where he is? Where is he?"

"I don't know where he is exactly but it can't be too far from Hell that's for sure."

Nicky sat back confused now, "I don't follow."

The Professor kept his eyes on hers, "He's missing right?"

Nicky found herself nodding despite all her intentions not to.

"Been about a week… and nobody's seen hide nor hair of him. Probably drowned at the bottom of the bloody ocean cause of you."

Nicky stiffened in outrage, "Me!? What did I do!?"

"You messed with his head, had him so bloody confused with your puppy dog eyes and soft skin it's no fucking surprise the bloke got shot on that yacht!" The Professor yelled at her.

Nicky paled whiter than a sheet, "Excuse me?"

"You think I don't know you've been diddling Conklin's bestest, baddest boy? It's got to be him since he's the only bloody American asset in this part of Europe worth his weight in salt." The Professor sneered.

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"Oh I bet you fucking don't, bloody meddlesome bird. The Italian bloke whatshisname, Caster or Castel or whatever, he's been following you around for a good bloody bit too hasn't he? Came here did a number on you, nearly did your daft head in didn't he? If it wasn't for your knight in shining armor, where would you be now, luv?"

"I don't know why you think-"

"Oh give it a rest, don't insult my bloody intelligence or my skills as an asset, been doing this job since you were in your fucking nappies" the Professor got to his feet making Nicky recoil.

He picked his overcoat off the hook then put it on; donning his gloves he looked over at her, still huddled on the piano stool.

"I just came to tell you that if he's dead or if he dies… _it's on your head_. You should never have messed around with _his _head, filled it with ideas, with all kinds of things an asset should never think of or want to have. You caused two of your best assets to fight over you and now one's bloody bonkers and the other's M.I. fucking A. Great job _handling_ your assets Miss Nicolette Trouble Parsons!"

The door slammed shut behind the Professor, leaving a shell-shocked Nicky to stare it like it held all the secrets to the meaning of life. Had the Professor just shared a cup of tea with her, listened to her play the piano then accused her of killing Jason? Was Jason dead? Had she killed him? Should she have done more to convince him leaving Treadstone was the best choice for him? Nicky covered her face with her hands and took deep gulping breaths.

Oh God, why did she not feel it then? Why did she not feel like Jason was gone, never to return? Why was she so sure that despite the nightmares and the week's absence, he was alive? Her fear and distress solidified into a burning ball of fire in her chest. Nicky felt sick, and claustrophobic, she had to get out of the apartment, she would go shopping because when Jason got back they were going to spend days on end in bed. They could worry about the technicalities regarding where they stood later. Getting up, Nicky absent-mindedly shut the piano lid, padded into the kitchen and washed the dirty mugs and spoon. Wiping down the kitchen like Jason had taught her until all traces of the Professor were gone. With a relieved sigh, Nicky went to put on some shoes and grabbed her Hermés Birkin bag. She was going to buy some sexy lingerie then maybe call Jacques and Louisa, they were back from their honeymoon and had been bugging her to join them for dinner. If she acted normal, then everything would go back to normal, Jason would come back and he would stalk her and they would train and fight and eventually have sex because that was what they did. The Professor was wrong, she hadn't killed him, he wasn't dead and this was not her fault.

24 September 2002

Nicky's cell phone beeped insistently, piercing through her sleeping pill induced stupor like a fog-light through mist. She groggily looked at the time and noted it was 8 a.m. and if she did not wake up right now she would be late for classes. Also, Conklin had her and all her available sources and informants working around the clock to try and find Jason.

Locating the source of the maddening sound, Nicky flipped her phone open to read the message she had consciously given up on ever reading.

'_Your man is in Marseilles, walked off a fishing boat and was going towards the train station.'_

The message came from one of Nicky's own sources that she had cultivated and kept off the Treadstone radar. With an incredulous whoop of joy, Nicky vaulted out of the bed, the sheets tangling around her legs and tripping her, she fell to the floor with a thud but did not feel any pain.

Giving another elated shout she ran into her bathroom, running the shower water she started to sing, "You know you make me wanna shout! Kick my heels up and shout! Come on now, don't forget to say you will! Don't forget to say yeah, yeah, yeah!"

------------XX-----------XXX--------

Nicky stared at her computer screen in the safe house and debated when she should tell Conklin that Jason was alive. Now that she knew he was alive and headed for Zurich not Paris, Nicky was confronted with the very legitimate concern that he could get into trouble for having failed the mission. Jason had never failed before. Nobody had. What would Conklin do to him? Would he be sent for reprogramming? What if he had lost it? Finally snapped on that boat and had turned into something rabid like Castel? Or mute and catatonic like Rowan Mayfair in '_The Witching Hour_'? Okay so you couldn't be mobile and catatonic at the same time, but the gravity of the possible state of mind he was in, remained the same. What would Conklin do then? Nicky remembered he had once told her that an 'irreparably damaged asset' would be _terminated_, by another asset of course. She remembered that day clearly because Jason had been in the room and he had not seemed surprised or distressed by this bit of information, nodding in _agreement_ with Conklin's philosophy.

She shuddered and refocused her energy on trying to think of how she could get to Jason first, assess his mental state and warn him _before_ alerting Conklin. She turned the knob on the police scanner to a Zurich frequency, worriedly listening to the traffic and hoping no mention of Jason would be made until she had come up with a strategy.

Hours later, she sat back in her chair and debated whether she should go to her afternoon classes or not, it was already 11a.m. and she had missed her morning double lecture. Just then she heard mention of a man who had attacked city cops in Zurich who spoke English with an American and fluent German that had put two officers in the hospital the night before. The man had just been spotted and the police were mobilizing to capture him as he left a Swiss bank.

Jason!? _Why_ would he have been sleeping on a park bench in the first place? He knew better than that! He had more than enough money _not_ to do that either! Nicky sat up in her seat, leaning forward she practically pressed her ear to the radio system, her heart beating frantically in her chest like a caged bird trying to escape. The police were just reporting back to HQ that Jason had slipped into the American embassy when her phone rang; making Nicky jump half a mile in her seat, she placed a hand to her heart and answered it.

"Parsons, I think I know where to find Bourne, we've got a man in Zurich at his bank, the uh… the Gemeinschaft bank," Danny yelled over the phone.

"I know, I just heard on the scanner and was about to call you… an American guy put two cops in the hospital last night, it could be him."

"What!? Christ, stay on the frequency. Let me confirm it then I'll call you back!" Danny snapped then hung up the phone.

Nicky bit her lip and turned up the scanner volume on the Zurich frequency, beads of fear in the form sweat popped up on her upper lip. She hoped that whatever happened in the American Embassy, he stayed off Treadstone's radar from now on. At least until she could get to him first. The Professor's words came back to Nicky and she felt her organs clench in a combination of fear and pain. Sweet Jesus in Heaven above don't let him be shot… or captured… or hurt!

-------------xxx----------

A half hour later, Nicky had also turned on the transmitter that had her hooked up to the Treadstone radio traffic frequency in Langley. Any messages that were going to be transmitted directly, she would hear them too.

When Danny called her back to tell her that they knew Jason had definitely been to the bank, had torn up the American embassy and escaped, she felt that lacerating pain in her middle rip through her again.

"What's Conklin gonna do?"

"He's activated all the Europe assets, Nicky."

Her heart jumped in her throat, "All of them? Why? I thought he'd bring him in but there's no need to bring in…But it's Bourne, he's-"

"Gonna be dead by sundown if Conklin has anything to say about it… Abbot came to see him, Bourne failed Nicky and he's got to be terminated."

Nicky gasped, "Just like that? We're not going to bring him, find out _what_ happened?"

Danny sighed at her naiveté, "Nicky we're talking about a multi-billion dollar clandestine program and oversight committees, in the face of that Bourne's just canon-fodder. He had a good run and now he's gotta go."

Her heart practically stopped in her chest, "Jesus Christ Danny."

"I know, it's fucked up but that the way it goes, we're all expendable… speaking of which, I gotta go, talk to you later."

He hung up the phone and Nicky sat there staring at the screen. This was a nightmare, how was this even happening?

----xxx---

Nicky received the pictures of Jason and the flaky looking girl giving him a ride, Marie Helena Kreutz. When she saw the woman's face, something in her heart told her the woman was a threat. Not as an assassin but as a contender for Jason's affections. Maybe it was the Treadstone asset-paranoia rubbing off on her but Nicky was pretty sure that if he was traveling with an unknown woman something must be seriously wrong. He worked alone, all of the assets did. There was no way he could be with this woman because he needed her protection. Oh God, what had happened to him over the last two weeks? Had Marie nursed him and was he now suffering from Stockholm Syndrome? Wait, that made no sense, she had been in Zurich not Marseilles… or had she?

Functioning on auto-pilot, Nicky juxtaposed the picture on the Interpol warning sheet. The whole time, she wondered what was going on inside Jason's head. What angle was he playing? Did he realize that Conklin would try and have him killed, was that why he was traveling with the woman, to make it harder to just do it without witnesses?

The information log of all the assets activated to get Jason came up, two names worried her most, the Professor and Frank Castel. Her breath caught in her throat, if Castel got to Jason, he would win after all! With shaking hands Nicky clicked on the information sheet on Marie Kreutz, please let this woman be an assassin of some kind! If she was Nicky would find the link, she had to!

Her phone rang; looking at the caller ID she knew it was Langley again.

"Parsons."

"What else have we got on Bourne and that Marie girl?" Conklin demanded.

"Nothing yet sir, I've mobilized our surveillance guys to monitor his apartment and all the major entry and exit points out of Paris. Their Interpol wanted pictures are with every law enforcement agency in Western Europe and I am monitoring all traffic on the radio."

"Good girl Nicky, your relief is coming in the next five minutes. I want you to go home and get some rest. I have a feeling we won't get much more action now, tomorrow though, I need you there and _on point_."

Nicky wondered how she was supposed to get any sleep tonight with what she knew but nodded to the empty room, "Yes Sir. Will do."

"Good. Now tomorrow, I need you to speak to our informants on the ground. If anything useful comes up, you high-tail it over to the safe house and get cracking, is that understood?"

Nicky blinked in consternation as she thought the last thing she wanted to be doing was be out talking to informants when she could have a much more controlling and monitoring role in the safe house.

"Nicky?"

"Yes Sir, I understand perfectly."

"Okay, then good-night, get some rest!" Conklin called out over the line before he cut it.

Nicky bit her lip wondering how long nightmares took, this was a waking nightmare and it was starting to take its toll on her confidence. She stared at the screen dumbly wondering why her brain seemed to have stopped working, she could not think of a single thing to do to help Jason.

The safe house door beeped open, turning sharply, Nicky watched as Peter Jackson walked into the room.

"Graveyard shift relief!" The freckled, blonde-haired diminutive man called out.

Nicky rolled her eyes, "Hey Pete, thanks, everything's all organized, you just have to follow scanner traffic and do whatever Langley orders you to do. I'm going home to sleep, Conklin's orders."

Peter smiled at her in sympathy, "Yeah I know he gave me an earful on my way here. Well go then, I have a feeling its going to be a very hectic couple days till they body-bag the sonofabitch."

Nicky frowned, a defensive rage unfurling in her chest, "You think they'll get him?"

Peter smiled at her indulgently, "Nicky, this is Treadstone, they always get their man."

They've never tried to catch Jason Bourne before! Nicky retorted in her head. With an impassive shrug, she rose from her seat and forced herself to smile at Peter as she pulled her coat on, picked up her purse and left the safe house.

-----------xx---------xx-------

That night as she lay in her bed, Nicky thought of two instances where Jason had pulled a stunt on Conklin. The first was in May 2001, he had led Nicky, Danny and Conklin on a wild goose chase, then when they had finally caught up to him, Jason had explained in minute detail all the logistical, tactical and personnel mistakes they had made. Conklin had laughed cynically and told Nicky and Danny that this was exactly why Jason was his bestest and baddest, he could do their jobs too and still be invisible. The second time Jason had tricked them was in October 2001, it was after the attacks and everybody had been extra jumpy and over-worked.

Nicky groaned in pent-up frustration, clutching the sheets in her fists she stared at her bedroom window and wondered if he was in Paris yet, and if he was, would he come to her now? Ask her for her help? Tell her to pack up her things so they could leave? Nicky's heart jumpstarted in anticipation, Oh My God! If Jason was on his way back to Paris, he was coming back to get her, he had to be! This Marie _person_ was just a cover! Sitting up in her bed, Nicky looked around her darkened room with new eyes, she had to pack! She had to be prepared for him to come and get her! Suddenly, everything made sense. Nicky was going to have to do her job just like any other day, and have faith that Jason would take anything Conklin threw at him. He knew better than anyone how the system worked. He killed better than any of the other assets out there. That's why he was the best, and this was why Conklin was throwing everything but the kitchen sink at Jason.

Oh My God, she had been so stupid to think that he wasn't one step ahead of them, all the time! Wrapping her arms around herself Nicky fell back on her bed and sighed happily. Everything was going to be okay, she could feel it. Jason was coming back for her… he had to be. It was the only thing that made sense, and when he did she would be ready.

----------xxx-------TO BE CONTINUED-------xxx---------

19


	11. Chapter 11

A/N: There are bits of conversation lifted straight from **Bourne Identity** here, _obviously_ they are not mine.

This fic has been a very strange and extraordinary thing for me. It was inspired by personal tragic events in my own life. Events that occurred around the same time I decided to re-watch the trilogy in one sitting.

Writing this story has been cathartic for me. It's not finished but Part One definitely belongs to those days when my heart was filled with darkness and despair, but life is funny that way, what goes up always comes down and vice versa.

I sincerely hope the rest of y'all out there have enjoyed reading this, have been taken on a different journey with the same characters other authors may or may not have done greater justice to. Happy New Year, here's to a great 2010!

_I am here to tell you _

_We can never meet again_

_Simple really, isn't it?_

_A word or two then,_

_A lifetime of not knowing_

_Where or how or why or when _

_You think of me, or speak of me, or wonder what befell_

_That__ someone you once loved so long ago, somewhere_ – **Written in the Stars**, Aida OST

---------xxx---------xx------

25 September 2002

Nicky had slept for exactly 4 hours, at the crack of dawn she had used the early morning light to guide her as she packed her backpack of essentials that she would need on the run with Jason. Her heart racing with a combination of exhilaration and dread, she tried not to think about the pervasive fear that would constantly haunt them and focused on the fact that she must have gotten through to him with their 'break up' last month. He had realized it was not a way to live and had used the Wombosi mission to stage the death of Jason Bourne, Treadstone assassin. She wondered who he would be now, the man he was before, or some hybrid amalgamation?

When she was done packing her bag, Nicky had taken a shower, thinking about how this was the last time she would be doing this as Nicky Parsons, principal logistics and handler to the Paris Treadstone office.

Erring on the side of caution she dressed carefully in muted colors that would not draw too much attention should she meet Jason in downtown Paris today. Unable to resist the celebratory nature of the day, she put on a pink sweater then Nicky had left the studio with a spring in her step, convinced that everything was going to work out for the best. She just needed to make sure she was in the right place for Jason to find her.

----------xx----------xx---------

"L'homme blonde, il est mort." The deep voice of her Rue de Jardins source told Nicky before hanging up.

Her blood bubbling with elation at the news, she hurried up the steps of the safe house, rapidly dialing Langley, she coded-in.

"Alpha nine three zero nine."

Frank Castel's dead! Frank Castel's dead! Jason had killed him!

"Hold on for Danny Zorn, Miss Parsons."

Oh _Thank God_! She did not have to worry about that Italian psychopath anymore!

"Yep?"

"Bourne's in Paris, he went back to his apartment with the German girl, Marie. Then Castel got there, Bourne threw him out of his balcony window and he escaped with Marie. The landlady's also dead but I think that was Castel, the sick prick."

"Hang on," Danny said, then looked up at Conklin.

"Bourne, he went to Paris, went to the apartment-"

Conklin reached out for the phone, "We got him?"

Sitting on Danny's desk he brought the receiver to his ear, "Tell me!"

Nicky's left hand curled into a fist, why did she have to repeat herself? There was no time!

"He killed our man."

"What, in the apartment?"

"Yeah!" Nicky said impatiently, pushing open the secure door.

"Well you gotta clean that up!" Conklin ordered irritably.

Nicky balked, she did not have time to clean up Castel's remains. She had to be ready for Jason to come and get her. Besides it was Castel, the bastard had attacked her and almost raped her less than six months ago!

"I can't clean that up! There's a body in the streets," she threw her keys on her desk.

As if she could not clean that up if she really wanted to.

"So!?"

Nicky started to remove her coat, "There's police… this is Paris!"

She could not wait to leave this job, it was a pity she wouldn't get a chance to tell Conklin to shove it.

"Alright put us through scanners and go through as much radio as you can!" Conklin ordered then hung up.

Nicky rolled her eyes and threw her hands free earpiece on the desk. Well duh, of course she was going to do _that_. Sitting down it took everything she had not to pump the air with her fists victoriously; Castel was dead, just like Jason had promised her he would be.

-----------xxx--------

Nicky got up from her desk as she listened to the informant's report on Wombosi's trip to the morgue. Pacing, she called Conklin in Langley and told him what she had heard.

"Where is he now?"

She rolled her eyes in irritation, they had gone over this earlier after she had briefed him on the car chase between Jason and the French police.

"I told you I'm not staffed for this…

"Where is he now? _Where_ is Wombosi?"

"They were leaving the morgue… they just left."

Conklin hung up and Nicky sighed. She was starting to feel uneasy, why hadn't Jason found her yet? And was he still with Marie?

The instructions to send the Professor to finish off Jason's botched job came through. Nicky sent them to the Professor. Sitting back down with an exhausted thump she fiddled with the scanners again. Where are you Jason? What's going on? She wondered tiredly.

--------------xx--------xx--------

26 September 2002

Nicky listened as the French police reported they had found Marie Kreutz's car. It had been wiped down. Jason and Marie were nowhere to be found. The orders came from Langley to prep the Professor for his next assignment, kill Jason Bourne. Nicky's uneasy feeling solidified into nervous fear for Jason. This was a man who had successfully finished a task Jason had failed to complete. What if he managed to kill Jason? In her apartment last week, the Englishman had seemed sympathetic to Jason, blaming Nicky for anything that might have or might happen to him. Would he kill him? The Professor's words came back to haunt her and Nicky felt a chill snake its way down her spine. She was scared, and confused. Jason had had plenty of time to contact her by now, why hadn't he?

Shoving her morbid thoughts to the back of her head, Nicky focused all her efforts on finding him again. When the information came through that Jason was staying at L'Hotel de la Paix, the same hotel he had taken her to after Castel's attack… with Marie, her heart plummeted to the pit of her stomach. Something was definitely wrong. The Jason Bourne she knew would never revisit the same place twice.

-----------xx---------xx------xxx

27 September 2002

"That crazy son of a whore's gonna burn us! We got a trail of bodies and collateral damage all over Western Europe!" Conklin yelled over the line.

Nicky, hunched tensely in her chair as she looked over all the information coming through, flinched at the vitriol in Conklin's voice. Up until now she had not thought that things would get so out of control but now she knew better.

She had to find Jason, she had to find out what was really going on in his head.

----XXX---

Printing out the information on Jason and Marie's probable location, Nicky messaged the Professor to come and meet her. She left the safe house with trepidation, even though the Wombosi mission had been given to Jason by Danny, the Professor had been right, she was to blame for this. She was his handler after all.

Arriving at the fair ground Nicky resolved to try and speak to the asset before he left. Convince him not to kill Jason, take him somewhere safe. If she had to get on her knees and grovel, take the blame she would. She just had to help him somehow.

Impatiently, she waited for the Professor to arrive, after a few minutes she began to pace, where was he? Turning around, the Professor was standing right there. She froze, how did he do that?

The Englishman gave her a contemptuous look that screamed, 'I told you so'. Nicky's hand stretched out to give him the instructions as she willed her mouth to open and words to come out. He snatched the paper from her and walked away. The very action telling her it was too late for conversation and plans. Nicky watched the Professor leave numbly, how had everything gone so off course?

--------xxx--------------

28 September 2002

Nicky sat in the safe house and sipped some chamomile tea gingerly. She had thrown up three times already today; her stomach was tied into a bundle of fearful knots as she willed Jason not to die. To be okay. Ironically, she wished the same for the Professor. Praying that if Jason had to kill him it was a quick and relatively painless death.

The special line rang, displaying the Professor's number; automatically Nicky transferred the call to Langley where Conklin and Danny were waiting to hear the news firsthand.

"Code in please…. Code in…. _Code in_."

Nicky leant forward in her seat, the silence was a good sign, Jason was alive! He had to be!

"Who is this?"

Nicky's heart skipped a beat with elation, it felt so good to hear his voice! But why did he sound so detached?

"Who the Hell are you?" Jason demanded.

She frowned in consternation, Jason knew he was speaking to Danny, he knew the protocols and he knew Danny very well. What was going on here?

"The man you sent is dead, so whoever the Hell you are you better start talking."

What!?

Conklin came on the line, "Hello Jason, so what are we into now? Come on it only goes two ways Jason, either you come in and let us make this right or we're gonna have to keep going until we're satisfied-"

"You mean until you kill me." Jason interrupted coldly.

Holy Jesus in Heaven above! What were these two men saying? They had been like father and prodigal son these last three years and now they were enemies!?

"I can't fix this Jason until I know what the problem is. So tell me what we're into and I'll do the best I can."

Nicky's fists clenched, wrong tone and wrong thing to say Conklin! Jason was not easily manipulated. His training ensured that he would cut through the exact kind of bullshit that Nicky had been taken in with after Castel's attack. The silence stretched in direct correlation to the stretching of Nicky's nerves.

"Why don't you talk to _Marie_, Jason? Let's ask Marie what she wants to do?" Conklin suggested.

Nicky held her breath, scared what Jason would say. Conklin was taking it as a foregone conclusion that Jason and Marie were… well, involved.

"Actually, I don't think she gives a shit… she's dead."

Nicky's lids fell slowly, if Marie was dead, it was her fault. She had sent the Professor after Jason and Marie. She had frozen and failed to get even one word out when she had had the chance to speak to the asset and beg him not to kill Jason.

"I'm sorry to hear that, how did that happen?"

Nicky detected the nervousness in Conklin's voice. He was worried too now.

"She was slowing me down."

Nicky felt dizzy and nauseous at the same time. Oh Sweet Mother of Jesus, he had snapped!

"Jason, listen all we've been doing right i-"

"Enough, _enough_! Five thirty pm. Paris… today, Pont Neuf, you come alone, you walk to the middle of that bridge, take off your jacket, face East… I'll redial this number."

"Jason, _wait_!"

The phone line went dead and Nicky sat there blankly staring at the screen, she tried to lift her limbs but she could not move them, they weighed a ton. Desperately she ran over the conversation in her head, trying to find some secret indicator as to what was really going on his head. He had to have known she would be listening; maybe he was trying to send her a message somehow. He couldn't have killed Marie could he? The memory of one of the jobs he had done in Glasgow sprang to mind. A prostitute had made him after he killed a soon to be prominent member of a Kurdish political party in exile with terrorist links. Jason had slit her throat and walked away.

Her secure line rang, making her jump. She flicked the switch on the transistor.

"Conklin said he's gonna call you from the car and to contact Picot ASAP, he's on his way to Paris now," Danny briefed her breathlessly.

Nicky nodded compulsively to the empty room, "Got it."

She cut off the line and throwing her headset on her desk ran to the bathroom to dry-retch, there was nothing left inside her. The now late Professor's words rang in her head like a discombobulated echo. _**"if he's dead or if he dies… it's on your head." **_

Limbs shaking uncontrollably, she rose to her feet, flushing the toilet and rinsing her mouth. Resolutely she averted her eyes from the mirror too afraid to look up and see a monster staring back at her.

Unsteadily she made her way back to her office and contacted Picot. She had to get Jason back, she had to do her job and right now those two priorities coincided. Self-flagellation was a luxury she could not afford, besides if they survived this there would be plenty of time for that later.

------------xxx-------

As soon as Conklin called Nicky from the aborted rendezvous with Jason, she knew what she had to do. Jason may be 'gone' for now but she knew him, he would come for her, seeking succor, one way or another like he always did. And she would be there and would give it to him no matter what the personal cost to her, like _she_ always did. Now that she knew he had been right about Treadstone and Conklin and all they represented she had to stay alert and be ready for anything.

As soon as she got in the safe house, she downloaded the most damaging files onto her personal backup hard drive that she had purchased and brought with her that morning. She and Jason could use it as leverage at some point.

Job complete she slid the slim hardware into her messenger bag and got down to the task of deleting Treadstone's files, initiating all the necessary protocols and coordinating with Danny in Langley and the other European Treadstone offices.

--------xxx------xxx-------

When he appeared at the safe house, adrenaline pumping through him, eyes haunted but determined and so angry, Nicky's blood sang with joy. She nearly forgot herself, tossed the gun hanging uselessly from her hand and ran to hug him. Show him how happy she was to see him again. Until he looked at her like he did not know her, until she read the utter and complete lack of recognition in his eyes, in his body language.

"I don't remember!" He was yelling at Conklin.

Nicky sensed the genuine pain, despair and confusion in his body and felt her heart plummet to her feet. He had really lost it, he had lost his memory! Her world shifted, the walls moving around her and the ground rocking, it was a subtle movement that had a dreamy insulated like quality. Nicky was not paying attention to the words being exchanged between Jason and Conklin, their voices coming to her as if from very far away. She was more focused on reading his body language, checking his body for any signs of injury. Was he favoring one leg more than other or was that her imagination? More than ever she wanted to go to Jason, hold him, and help him, sympathy overriding everything else she herself was feeling at this latest bombshell.

"I don't wanna do this anymore," Jason said plaintively.

Her heart melted into warm goo. Oh My God, she had gotten through to him! She had not dared hope that he would make this choice but he had!

Conklin's body dropped with a thud and Nicky snapped out of her reverie. Belatedly she remembered she was holding one of the handguns from the field box. She held her breath as he stopped and looked at her, really looked at her for the first time since he had barged in. She knew him well; he was wrestling with the urge to do her harm, trying to control the cold fury flowing in his veins. His eyes flickered with something, as he sized her up, she saw his chest seize momentarily and Nicky willed him to remember her, or if not remember her, for his protective instincts towards her to kick in and take her with him.

'Come on Jason, _don't do this._ Don't leave me here all alone.' Her brain screamed. His wild eyes seemed momentarily regretful, like he was apologizing, then he turned away from her and faced the door. Nicky knew him, and she knew assets, his attention and senses were now fully attuned to whatever was beyond the door. She no longer existed, _or mattered_. She blinked uncomprehending as he disappeared from her line of vision and guns were fired on the landing.

She wanted to drop down dead like the guys that were coming up against Jason out there most probably were. She wanted to cry, run after him, rail at the fates, to do something, to feel something. Why couldn't she feel something? Why couldn't she move? And why had it seemed like the Jason Bourne she had known before Marseille had briefly flickered in the new Jason's eyes, and been remorseful as if he was saying goodbye to her?

The hallway was silent now, whatever had happened on the staircase had happened. All the agents were probably dead, and Jason had gotten away. He had come too far and was far too determined to have been shot by a bunch of goons. She knew that as surely as she knew her name. Conklin struggled to his feet and leaning against the wall, stood shakily. He turned to look at Nicky and she just stared right back at him. Wiping his bloody mouth he ran a hand through his hair and stoically walked out the door. The Professor's words came back to haunt her; '_**if he's dead or if he dies… it's on your head. You should never have messed around with his head, filled it with ideas, with all kinds of things an asset should never think of or want to have.'**_

Nicky flinched, and somehow she knew she would not see Conklin again. He had gone too far, Treadstone had nurtured him and he had nurtured Treadstone. Jason _was_ Treadstone and he was as good as dead. As was the Professor… and Castel. They were all dead, it was just that her boss didn't know it yet, or maybe he did. Conklin was a dead man walking, just like Jason.

------------xxx------------

Dressed in dark blue jeans, her Gucci jodhpurs, a black turtleneck and a black leather jacket, Nicky finished wiping down her studio, carefully avoiding her face in any reflection or looking at the Steinway that sat accusingly in the main room. Methodically, she put all her clothes in dry-cleaning bags and hung them back up in the closet. Her hands hesitated when she came across the red Chanel sheath dress. Suddenly she was assaulted with the memory of the day she had bought it.

7 July 2002

"Is the Agent Provocateur, La Perla and Victoria's Secret underwear a post-Paris thing or have you always bought expensive underwear?" Jason asked as he admired her pink silk thong.

Nicky pulled her loose blonde hair over to one side and looked back at Jason over her bare shoulder as she shimmied into a red Chanel sheath dress, "I've always bought expensive underwear."

Jason got up from his seat and stood behind her, large capable hands doing up the tiny buttons at the back of the dress systematically. He frowned introspectively.

"So the Southern ranch girl is a fan of pricy lingerie and a fashion connoisseur?"

Nicky smiled in understanding, "Ah, well I might have grown up on a ranch but Upper East Side is in the blood."

"Really?"

He did the last button and turned her around to face him, she brought dancing eyes up to meet his.

"Yes really. My mother's an Astor and my father is upper middle class, his blood was determined blue enough to mix with my mother's because his great-grandmother was the illegitimate daughter of an English Earl. You once commented on my natural grace and poise, sorry to say but it is not so much natural as ingrained," Nicky explained dryly.

Jason pushed her hair off her shoulder and pulled away to admire the dress on her. He let his lips twist in an appreciative smile. Then met her brown gaze, eyes thoughtful.

"I don't think you can teach someone to be naturally elegant."

Nicky beamed at him with pride, then putting on her best Scarlett O'Hara drawl said, "Why thank you kind Sir."

She brought a hand to her chest and batted her lids coquettishly.

"So that makes me wonder, why do you do what you do?"

Nicky sat down in her seat and slipped her brand-new silver Jimmy Choo sandals on her bare feet.

"Let's just say all that UES scheming, the so-called "charity" balls, the jadedness, the alcohol and drug addictions, the marrying into money thing, torrid affairs and spending money just for the sake of it while existing in a gilded cage did not and never has appealed to me."

She stood up and executed a small pirouette. He approached her slowly, stopping in front of her, Jason slid his hands up her arms and cupped her face. Looking into her eyes he leaned down and kissed her softly on the lips.

"Hmm… the farm boy and the socialite, I don't think I've ever heard of that story ending well."

Nicky grinned, "I don't think I've ever heard of that story at all and it's just as well I'm not a socialite."

"Yeah you are."

Nicky pushed his arms away and walked to the exclusive fitting room curtain, poking her head out, she told the assistant she was taking the dress. Turning back around to face him she gave him a chagrined smile.

"If any of the girls who actually _wear_ the name of socialite and _know _me, heard you call me _that_, they would spontaneously combust with _outrage_ at the misnomer. Let me take this off and then we can go," she turned around and pointed at the buttons.

Jason spun her back around and shook his head at her, "No, let's get you a nice white trench-coat; you're not taking that dress off."

Nicky beamed at him as she felt his state of arousal against her hip. They had not had sex since Munich and she could not wait to be with him again. Preferably without the expression of Jason's darker desires this time.

"Okay," she whispered.

He guided her out of the dressing room and turned around to gather her discarded clothes as well as wipe down the room of anything that could later be used to identify him as the man who had come to the exclusive store with Nicky.

Back in the present Nicky snatched her hand off the dress like she had been scorched and stared at it. The entire closet seemed to swim in and out of her vision. Pain wrapping itself around her torso like razor-wire, she doubled over and grabbed one of the closet doors for support. Making a quick decision she put the dress in a garment bag along with the white trench-coat she had bought that day, unearthed a large box and folded both items in it. Fumbling around the bottom of her closet she unearthed the bag from La Perla with all the fancy new underwear she had bought in anticipation of celebrating Jason's return from Marseille. It was only a week and a half ago when she had made the purchases, but it seemed like a lifetime. She dumped the entire contents of the bag on top of the trench-coat then got up to locate some duct tape. Hurriedly she taped the box shut then using a fat magic marker wrote Louisa and Jacques' home address on it. She carried the box out of her apartment and let herself into apartment number 3, the occupant, Elena Miroslav a half deaf Hungarian woman was visiting her grandchildren in Italy and would not be back until the following week. Placing the box on the sofa, she slid €100 under it. Creeping out of the apartment she went back to her studio and put Mrs. Miroslav's keys in an envelope. She went back downstairs and pushed the envelope through the mail flap.

Going back upstairs, she finished wiping down the apartment. In the back of her mind an obstinate voice was telling her that Jason would be here any minute to come and get her. He may have amnesia about everything but just like he remembered how to kill people, how to disable security systems, how to disappear, he must remember her. For three years she had been like an extension of all the things Treadstone had taught him, she had been an extension of _him_. He could not stay away from her; he had needed her, constantly reassuring himself with having her near even if it was to torment her. It was like muscle-memory, and the heart was a hollow muscular organ, he himself had told her she was his heart. How could he forget or leave her? He _would_ come back to get her and she would be ready. Once they were together they would figure the rest out, how to help him regain the rest of his memory back, how to stay off the grid and live a relatively normal life. It would be hard but they could do it.

Looking around the studio, Nicky mentally went through everything wondering if she had left anything behind. Her gaze strayed to her bed and fell on the beanie she had taken from Tristan's crib in Cuba. His adorable face swam up in front of her, and she felt her body flood with regret as she realized that she would most probably not see him anytime soon. _If things went badly, maybe never again. _Fear squeezed her so tight; her breath came out in a gasp. She could not risk his life, not until things with Jason and Treadstone were resolved. He was safer where he was.

She activated the secret phone and SIM card she used to speak to Lee and Troy. Dialing the number from memory she glanced at the time, it was 2 a.m. already! She had taken far too long wiping the studio down!

"Bangkok Travel and Tours, Good Morning!"

Nicky's lips twitched with the beginnings of a smile, "Hey Troy you flaming fruit it's me."

"Who's me?"

"Your worst nightmare."

"Ay Tia, why the very first thing you say is meant to make me irritated?" Troy complained.

"What do you mean?"

"If I was to have a nightmare, don't you think it would have better taste in fashion than you!?"

Nicky rolled her eyes, "Oh My God, _whatever_. Is Lee there?"

"No, he's in Burma with travaljo."

"What about-"

"The little Papi is outside with the maid's children, they are playing with the mud. I go get him?"

Nicky's heart crashed in her chest, sadly she knew she could not afford to stay on the line long enough for Troy to go and get her baby. If Jason turned up any moment now she would have to cut off the conversation.

"Hey Mamacita, what's wrong?" Troy asked worried at her silence.

Nicky shook her head, "Nothing. Listen this number is dead after I hang up, I will call you guys when I can, okay?"

Troy swore volubly in Spanish under his breath, Nicky smiled despite the pain in her chest.

"It's that mens, that _filho de puta_… isn't it?" He was referring to Jason.

Nicky sighed, "Ciao Papi, mucho besitas for everyone okay?"

"Ay _non_! It's not okay!"

Tears filled Nicky's eyes, "Te amo, keep mi Corazon safe and happy for me, por favor."

"Ay Dios mio! Of course, of course! Te amo mucho!" Troy practically shouted the last part.

Nicky hung up the phone and switched it off. Taking the battery and the SIM card out she crushed them both under her booted heel. Striding into the kitchen, she retrieved the hand brush and the dustpan. After she swept up the pieces she poured water on them then threw them in the trash.

With a sigh she laid across the foot of her bed, Tristan's beanie baby in her arms and waited for Jason to come.

---------xx-----

29 September 2002

Nicky woke up from a fitful sleep with a start; someone was banging insistently on her door. She glanced at her clock radio on the side table and saw it read 7:13 am.

Jason! He had come for her! Tristan's beanie still clutched in her hand she ran to the front door and opened it quickly. As soon as the last lock was loose the door was shoved open forcefully.

Nicky rocked back on her heels as Treadstone agents stormed into her studio. Quickly looking around, they took in her backpack and her laptop. The agent in charge gestured to one of them to pick them up. He turned to Nicky who was still staring at him mutely. Clasping his hands behind his back and his feet firmly planted apart he opened his mouth to speak.

"Nicolette Parsons, my name is Agent John Baker, identity code Bravo Two Whiskey Nine Eleven, I have direct orders from Langley to take you back to the States with me for debriefing. Operation Treadstone has been shut down and you're going to have to come with me ma'am."

The other two agents in the studio finished their cursory inspection of the place. Her eyes slid to her closet full of clothes and her dresser. Agent Baker's eyes brightened in understanding.

"Not to worry ma'am, these gentlemen will make sure all your personal effects are remitted back to you, but for now you will just have to take my word for it."

Nicky nodded and waited for Agent Baker to precede her, he raised his eyebrows in surprised appreciation. She stared at him in silent challenge and he gestured for the other agents to follow him, letting Nicky bring up the rear. Dropping the beanie baby on the floorboards, Nicky pulled the door shut without looking behind her. Then squaring her shoulders forced herself to follow the men, one leaden step at a time.

They got into the car, and a female agent with cold blue eyes, patted her down, cracking a bitter smile when she found Nicky's Sig strapped to her side. Agent Baker studied her with renewed interest; so far she hadn't said a word but the agents that had gone in after they had left had given him a preliminary report that it appeared the whole place had been wiped down.

Through the tinted windows, hands folded demurely in her lap, Nicky watched the Paris suburbs speed past in a blur. They were heading for the military airport. For some reason her brain refused to follow any known or logical thought pattern. What was going to happen to her when they got to Langley, what was going to happen to all of them not even crossing her mind. All Nicky could think was that Jason had not come for her, he really had _forgotten_ her! Consequently, that knowledge had robbed her of the power of speech or logical life-saving thoughts. Feeling the eyes of Agent Baker and the woman Nicky instinctively knew to be a female asset, she turned to face them.

"Conklin?" Her voice croaked with disuse.

"Dead. Bourne killed him." Agent Baker explained succinctly.

'Yeah but not in the literal way you mean.' Nicky wanted to say but her jaw muscles, exhausted from the effort of just saying Conklin's name refused to move. Besides, what would be the point?

Nicky turned back to look out the window, she may not know who the man in Jason Bourne's body was but she had been there at the safe house last night. _He_ did not kill Conklin, something vestigial in him instinctively recognizing Conklin as father to his son. He had been unable to commit patricide, at least not in the traditional sense. Nicky would bet her bottom dollar that someone at Langley, most probably Abbott had ordered the hit.

Alexander Conklin was dead, so was the Professor, and Frank Castel and Nykwana Wombosi… and countless agents that had been sent to capture Jason and Marie.

"_**If I even feel you behind me there is no measure to how fast and hard I will bring this fight to your doorstep."**_

A click similar to the cocking of a gun sounded in her head. Marie _wasn't_ dead! Jason had lied, the way he had come into the safe house and threatened Conklin. _That _had been protective anger, Nicky knew it.

She absently stroked her right wrist where Castel had broken it. Agent Baker and the female asset watched her intently, wondering how a 22 year old woman had not only managed to be principal logistics and handler to the Paris Treadstone office which had basically run operations for all Western Europe over the last three years, but also how she had so far managed to escape unscathed from the fallout of the software malfunction that was Jason Bourne's alleged amnesia. They were also wondering how she managed to seem so cool and composed sitting there, her thoughts masked behind an impassive face and unreadable brown eyes. She must realize that when they arrived in Langley she would be interrogated?

"_**Jason Bourne is dead, you hear me, he drowned two weeks ago…I'm on my own side now."**_

Nicky stopped stroking her wrist, and she folded her hands back into her lap. If Jason was on the run with Marie she wished them both well, it was not like she had much to be jealous of. _Her_ Jason was dead, he had drowned at the bottom of the ocean off the coast of Marseille like the Professor had said. The irony of him dying in the ocean like his recurring nightmare cast a macabre pall on everything. Nicky should have taken his dream more seriously, sought to help him more.

She caught her reflection in the car window and it took her a few seconds to recognize the face staring back at her. She had asked herself not long ago if Jason was the monster or was she? For three years she had personally coordinated and facilitated the deaths of over 210 people including innocent bystanders. With Jason, Castel, the Professor, Jason's landlady at the apartment in Rue de Jardins, Conklin, Wombosi the figure was now 216.

Watching the sky lighten as the morning gradually progressed, she wondered why, if the sun was rising to the rest of the world, her universe was fading to pitch black without a star or a moon in sight. On the outside, her chest rose and fell regularly, firmly ensconced in her seat of the speeding car. On the inside, Nicky was free-falling down a chasm and there was nothing to hold onto as it hit her; _she_ was responsible, she _was_ to blame. So many dead and gone, they were all dead, and to an extent so was she.

-------------xxx---------------------------

END OF PART ONE. What did y'all think?

23


	12. Chapter 12

**A/N: **First off, I gotta say, as far as fans or readers go, y'all are not just a generous bunch but you're persistent too. Thank you so very much for the reviews and words of flattery and encouragement. It's so lovely to get feedback!

I've been so busy with work and real life stuff that this fic has been left hanging for a number of months. I never had an intention to ditch it but stuff just kept getting in the way. The good news is, this chapter is L-O-N-G! The bad news is I haven't finished writing the rest of Part Two yet and that makes me antsy. I like to be 2-3 chapters ahead in the writing as I post, so I don't yet have a bigger picture view of this part of the story. Anyhoodle, let me know what y'all think of this bit and how it fits in with the story so far and we can take it from there.

**The Untold Story - Part Two**

**Chapter 1 – ****Aftermath – Things We Lost in the Flood**

_When I no longer have your heart_

_I will not request your body_

_your presence_

_or even your polite conversation._

_I will go away to a far country_

_separated from you by the sea-_

_- on which I cannot walk - _

_and refrain even from sending _

_letters_

_describing my pain._ – **Walker**, Alice Walker

13 October 2002

**CIA Interrogation Room – Langley, Virginia**

Dead men did not tell any tales. Nicolette Parsons knew that. And torturers were generally distrustful by nature, she knew that too. They did not trust your version of events, that's why they hurt you and tormented you until you told them what they wanted to hear; but Nicky could not do that. She was not going to betray the secrets of the men that had worked, lived then died around her. Men that had left her alone to face the Inquisition, a fate she was certain Danny Zorn did not share. She raised her head and stared at her interrogator, everything was shifting. She could not focus, the harder she tried the dizzier she got. It was the drugs they had given her and the sleep deprivation and maybe a small part of the madness growing stronger and more pronounced in her every day. Nicolette could swear her tormentor looked like her high school calculus teacher or the bad Terminator in the second movie. An inappropriate but forceful bubble of amusement rose up in her chest.

"What's funny, Nicolette?"

The laughter ripped out her, echoing wildly in the padded room.

"You are. I am… this whole thing is I guess…" Licking her chapped lips she swallowed as she tried to slow down the words scraping out of her dry throat.

Squinting at the man whose features she could no longer distinguish, she smiled at him sadly. He reciprocated with a sympathetic twist of his lips, placing his hands on either side of the chair she was cuffed to, he nodded encouragingly. They had been doing this for two weeks and for ten out of the fourteen days that he had been interrogating her, Nicolette Parsons had chosen silence. Not uttering a word of denial or protest as he cajoled then yelled all kinds of accusations at her.

She took a deep breath, "If I was in the army… I would have been given a purple heart or iron cross or whatever for being one of two people… that _I_ know of at least, to _survive_ Paris. But this is the Central fucking Inquisition Authority so of course, I am rewarded for still breathing with torture."

Her tormentor frowned in concern; he crouched down in front of her and looked into her eyes, beseechingly.

"Nicolette, please just tell me what I want to know and I will remove the cuffs, no more needles or padded rooms or uncomfortable positions or sleep deprivation, you'll be snug as a bug in a rug in your own bed."

She snorted to herself quietly, "I don't think this is real… it can't be, if it was I should be dead by now… I've lost it haven't I? It's the only thing that makes sense because _I didn't do anything wrong_! I followed all the protocols, did everything Conklin told me to do but you want something from me I can't tell you because I don't know it."

Her tormentor sighed regretfully, then pulled a gun out of his holster and pressed the cold steel nose to her forehead.

"_Where_ is Jason Bourne? _Why_ did he let _you_ live when he _killed_ everybody else! What are you hiding? Tell me what I need to know Parsons or so help me, I'll blow your fucking brains out."

Gritting her teeth, Nicolette pressed her forehead closer to the gun and screamed, "_I don't know_! So do it! _Please_ just do it… I _can't_ take this anymore!"

She heard the release of the safety catch and took a shaky breath, closing her eyes she willed her tormentor to pull the trigger but like the other two times he had done this to her, he did not pull the trigger.

"Agent Smith, stand down and come into the situation room, please. Agent Smith, stand down and to the situation room." A disembodied voice blared over the P.A. system.

The safety catch was slid back on and the gun taken away from her head. Her tormentor left her in the chair, swiping his card and leaving Nicolette alone.

Leaning her head back, Nicky let the ever-shifting room swirl around her in defeated acceptance. For all the things she did not know, she knew one thing for sure. If she held out long enough, one of these days 'Agent Smith' was going to finally put them both out of her misery and shoot her.

-xx-

Ward Abbot turned to look at his newest professional interrogator and crossed his arms across his chest. Danny Zorn's eyes were focused on the plexi-glass and the sight of a bound and battered Nicky.

"Well Agent Walker?"

"Sir, I have used all of the non-invasive methods I know and can think of and a few invasive ones too, she is either _phenomenally_ good or she really doesn't know anything about Bourne's whereabouts or anything that might harm the Agency."

Danny looked at Abbot's unyielding profile beseechingly, willing the older man to see what he had been trying to tell him all week.

"She was just logistics and a handler, not even former field ops working as handlers could handle what you've done to her already. Conklin was paranoid and a good trainer but not that good. She really doesn't know anything." Abbot said shortly and decisively.

Agent Walker nodded along with Abbot's words, "Yes Sir."

Danny breathed a sigh of relief.

Abbot looked through the plexi-glass at Nicky, cuffed to the chair in the padded room; the fluorescent lights were not kind to her bruised countenance. The dark hollows around her eyes were more pronounced, as were the random black, blue, purple and yellow bruises on her arms and throat. Her head was listing to the side and she was obviously beyond exhausted. Agent Walker had deprived her of food and water for the last 36 hours. Letting her sleep in snatches before waking her up with a bucket of salt water to the face, the old man could not help but admire the girl's resilience. Bigger and more experienced men had cracked under less harsh treatment.

"Get her out of there, have her sent to the infirmary and as soon as she is re-hydrated and properly lucid send her home."

With that the white haired man gestured to Zorn and they left the room. Agent Walker turned back to the door leading into the padded room and taking a deep breath went to release his captive. He would have protested, Nicolette Parsons had to know something she was not telling but he was out of time. Orders were orders.

-xxx-

15 October 2002

Nicky stared at the IV drip attached to her right arm, the saline solution trickled slowly and she blinked in time with the liquid. Her mind was uncharacteristically blank.

She had heard the nurses talking late the night before, it had been two weeks since one man had single-handedly destroyed the Treadstone programme. Two weeks since the ugly truth that the last three years had not mattered as much to Jason Bourne or imprinted themselves in his consciousness the way they had in hers, had been revealed to her. Two weeks since Nicky had begun to see Treadstone and the nebulous men in Washington that had sanctioned it for the monsters they really were. Two weeks since Nicky had totally and completely lost all her beliefs in a merciful and compassionate God. If He had had any mercy and compassion He would not have left her to live with all these ugly truths that were crowding her brain, screaming inside her like lost souls in the 7th circle of Hell itself.

She had thought the interrogation had been bad but now she missed the drugged state she had suffered most of it in. There were no longer any drugs, just Nicky, and the 216 souls she knew she had helped destroy, shrieking for vengeance and her blood. Maybe God was merciful and compassionate but He had just forsaken her, just like truth, justice, patriotism, Jason Bourne, Alexander Conklin, the Professor and Treadstone had forsaken her.

The reason people like her did not get a medal of honor was because they did not deserve it. She saw that now.

A middle-aged female doctor came in to see her, Nicky forced herself to stop staring at the drip, it would not do for her to alarm the one person that could help her leave this place. Escape from Abbot's relentless scrutiny and the endless white surroundings with the harsh lights and antiseptic smell that made it almost impossible for Nicky to hold anything down.

"Nicolette, I'm glad to see you're awake, I have your test results here, everything looks great," the blonde doctor smiled reassuringly.

Nicky's eyes were drawn to the flaxen strands and all she could think was that as soon as she left this place she was dyeing her hair back to brown. Sitting up in her narrow hospital bed, she fixed solemn brown eyes on the woman. The analytical part of her brain recognised the Company's effort to regain her trust by sending her a maternal looking woman to treat her. The other part of her brain sighed in resigned acceptance; there was no end to the scheming here in Langley.

"So when can I go home," she asked tentatively, her voice breaking from dehydration, pain and disuse.

The doctor referred to her chart and flicked her pen distractedly, "As soon as that drip is done, we'll observe you for a couple hours then you're home free… So I guess as soon as the evening shift starts their rounds. I thought it would be in your best interests to get a fresh pair of eyes to give you the all clear, just to be safe."

Nicky sank back into the mattress and closed her eyes. She knew what _that_ meant; they wanted to send her home in the evening because they would have the cover of night to better spy on a now understandably super-paranoid agent. The old Nicky would have been angry, would have _cared_, the new Nicky just wanted a nice 26-ounce of vodka and a hot shower. In that order.

The doctor left and was replaced by Danny Zorn, it took Nicky a few minutes to realize that he was standing at the foot of her bed. She watched him through half closed lids and when he continued to fidget, unsure of himself, she let out a sigh of exasperation and sat up again.

"Hey Danny, what brings you here?" Her tone was as dead as she felt inside.

Danny cleared his throat and approached her, a bouquet of pink carnations in his hand. He thrust the flowers under her nose and she stared at the flowers dispassionately before raising her eyes to meet his.

"Doc says you can go home today…. I came to see you yesterday but you were sedated so… how are you feeling now? You look much better than-"

"I did in the padded cell I was in a couple days ago?" Nicky asked dryly.

Danny flushed and Nicky's left eyebrow rose in detached amusement.

"I was going to say than you did last night," Danny retorted.

Nicky's face went blank and she stared at the carnations with pointed disinterest.

"Wait till you see what a hot shower, real food and a manicure can do Zorn, it'll be like the last two weeks never happened."

He withdrew the flowers she obviously was not impressed with, setting them on the table at the foot of the cot and pulled up a chair to sit by her. Nicky grit her teeth in irritation.

"Well at least your propensity for sarcasm is intact, they were worried that you'd be all traumatised and withdrawn," he rejoindered unthinkingly.

"Trauma's for civilians… and after the welcome party I got, I think I've proven once and for all that I'm not a civilian." Nicky said flippantly.

Danny's brow furrowed momentarily before he regained his composure, "Nicky I'm so sorry you had to go through that."

Her jaw clenched momentarily before she fixed unreadable eyes on Danny's, "So am I."

Silence descended over them and Nicky's eyes were drawn back to the saline solution in the IV, she willed the fluid to get in her body faster so she could leave.

After a few minutes Danny cleared his throat, "I guess Ole Conkers knew what he was doing, making me his right hand man here, if we had all been in Paris, I would have been in the interrogation room next to yours."

It was through sheer willpower that Nicky didn't make a face, it was bad enough that Zorn was confirming that he had been impervious to harm throughout her ordeal; but then he had brought her carnations; grandmother Margaret's favourite flowers, and now he was reminding Nicky of everything else she was trying not to think of.

"Yeah, good Ole Conkers. I missed the funeral… did you make it?"

Danny licked his lips nervously, "Yeah… yeah I did. His ex-wife was there and his parents. Abbot was there as well and so was-"

Nicky raised a hand to stop the flow of words, she did not want to hear this, "I'm kinda tired Danny, do you mind if we continue the debrief some other time?"

She did not have to fake the yawn she covered with her hand. Danny looked hurt but he recovered quickly, smiling at her in sympathy.

"Yeah, yeah sure… Sorry, I didn't think-"

"It's okay, and thank you for the flowers they are very… pink." She smiled saccharinely then turned away from him.

Danny stood awkwardly for a few seconds, and then walked out of her room dejectedly. Nicky, eyes screwed shut berated herself for her erratic behaviour. Way to go Parsons, she thought derisively.

Everything had seemed so fuzzy until she had seen Danny. Then all the things she had done a good job of ignoring had come flooding back. Zorn was the last real link to the life she had led in Paris and Jason. He had also sent Jason on that last mission, and knew about Castel's attack on her and Conklin's cover up. Seeing as he had clearance to come and visit her as well as immunity from suspicion, it did not take a genius to figure that Danny was more loyal to Danny than he had been to Conklin or Treadstone or Nicky.

She clenched her fist in helpless anger, lamenting the loss of the drugs that made everything fuzzy. She hated this new reality, with its cold, bright lights and pervasive air of distrust, politics and betrayal. She was one woman in the face of a wall of untrustworthy and dangerous men and she did not know where the strength or the will to go on was going to come from.

Nicky stared up at the white ceiling and with a patience borne of desperation, waited for the drowsiness she felt to lull her into a fitful sleep.

-xxx-

**Upper East Side, New York City, New York**

The black estate car dropped Nicky off outside her parent's town house and she looked up at the familiar blue door with lead in her stomach. The last time she had been here she was heading back to Paris after Tristan's birth in Cuba.

Had that really happened less than two years ago? It felt like two lifetimes ago. Hunching her shoulders, she ducked her head and walked up the Italian marble steps then rang the bell. To her surprise, her mother opened the door.

Nicky was assailed with the scent of her mother's perfume combined with the bright lights and tinkling piano music coming from the warm exterior.

"Nicole!"

Nicky smiled at her mother apologetically. Her name, spoken with such surprised disappointment told her all she needed to know. Everything else in her life may have changed but her mother was still the self-involved, detached woman she had always been. It was oddly comforting.

"Hello Mother, sorry to drop in un-announced like this," she apologised quietly.

Jeannette Michelle 'Mimi' Antoinette Astor Parsons, raised an elegant hand to tuck her platinum blonde hair behind her ears, diamond drop earrings twinkling in the light. The other hand which was still holding onto the door handle critically perused Nicky from head to toe. The blue jeans, black turtleneck and black overcoat were doing nothing to hide the dark smudges around her eyes, the pale chapped lips and the bloodless cheeks. Jeannette looked into her youngest child's eyes and internally flinched, the brown orbs spoke volumes with their weary and careful blankness. Releasing the door handle she stepped forward and wordlessly enveloped her daughter in a tight hug, stroking her back soothingly, Mimi kissed her daughter's cheek.

Nicky felt like her insides were being processed through a meat-grinder, since when did her mother hug her like this? Nicky made to pull away and Mimi held her tighter for a second before releasing her.

"Thank God you're alright my darling!"

Nicky frowned in genuine confusion, "Why wouldn't I be?"

Jeannette Astor-Parsons made a non-committal gesture with her hands and pulled her daughter inside, shutting the door behind her.

"Well, your father's contacts in the Agency told him you had gotten into some kind of trouble in Paris and they didn't know where you were and then your things arrived two days ago… I _told_ him he was being silly, but just now when I saw you I remembered that you're my youngest and I had missed you… Don't look so surprised Nicole I do love you even if I have never understood you."

Nicky stared at her mother in surprise but before she could speak, Gerard their butler walked into the foyer.

"Sorry to interrupt but some of the guests were asking for you, Madam. Miss Nicole, it is a pleasure to have you home again."

Nicky acknowledged the dark-haired, middle-aged man with an inclination of her chin as her mother turned regretful green eyes on her. Soft hands smoothed imaginary wrinkles out of the silver vintage Christian Dior dinner dress, the action symbolising the subtle shift from brief maternal sentimentality to the usual cold and selfish persona her mother indulged in normally.

"I'm sorry darling but we have guests and… you don't look like you'd make good dinner company… those circles around your eyes are positively _raccoon_-like and well, quite frankly, _unsightly_… your _hair_ is so _limp_ and the _clothes_, seriously Nicole you'd think you were living in the wilds of Aruba not the fashion capital of the world… So if you don't mind-"

"No of course I don't Mother, I'll go up to my room and get some much needed shuteye and I'll see you in the morning," Nicky said brightly, stifling the urge to roll her eyes at her mother's careless chatter.

Jeannette smiled and drawing her daughter close, air-kissed both her cheeks before rustling down the hallway and disappearing into the dining room. Nicky heard laughter and muted voices briefly before the door shut behind her mother.

She turned to face Gerard and he clasped his white-gloved hands behind his back.

"Did you not bring any luggage Miss Nicole?"

Nicky made a face, "My mother pulled me inside and I don't think she noticed it."

Gerard nodded in understanding and strode to the front door, Nicky turned to watch him.

"Gerard? Is my room still my room?"

"Yes Miss Nicole, your mother had the maid put fresh linens on your bed every day these last two weeks and it has been thoroughly cleaned daily since then too."

Nicky raised her eyebrows in shock, "Are you serious?"

Gerard smiled at her compassionately, "She is very complex your mother."

Nicky nodded and blindly watched him open the door and lug her two suitcases inside. Someone opened the dining room doors and the sound of merriment filtered out before the doors shut again. Nicky looked down at her clothes and knew her mother would be mortified if one of her guests saw Nicky looking like less than an immaculate Astor-Parsons. Throwing Gerard a panicked look, Nicky ran up the stairs, and hid in the shadows. At the same time the doorbell rang and Gerard went to open it. Nicky's heart jumped into her throat as she spied Ward Abbot standing on her parents' doorstep.

"Good evening Mr. Abbot."

"Good evening Gerard, I'm not too late for dinner am I?"

Abbot handed Gerard his hat and was unwrapping his scarf while he looked around the foyer, noting Nicky's two suitcases. She pressed herself deeper into the shadows and watched her boss as he shrugged his coat off.

"You're just in time for the main course Sir, Mr and Mrs. Parsons told me to bring you in the dining room as soon as you arrived."

"And it looks like one of your guests plans on staying here indefinitely Gerard, whose cases are these?"

"Miss Nicolette Parsons Sir. The youngest child has returned from her sojourn in Paris."

"And will she be joining us? I would love to finally meet her."

"No Mr. Abbot she won't, now if you'll follow me."

Ward Abbot nodded and gestured for Gerard to lead the way. Nicky remained frozen in the shadows long after the two men had disappeared into the dining room. Finally peeling herself away from the wall she made her way to her bedroom.

She was assaulted by the familiar fresh smell of lemon furniture polish mingling with that of clean sheets and the rose potpourri her mother insisted was used in all bedrooms. Despite the hurt and confusion she was feeling Nicky felt herself smile sadly. The scent should have been welcoming but it reminded Nicky of all the people she had cared about and lost; Grandma Margaret, Tristan, Jason and the young naïve girl she had been before Treadstone had turned her hopes, dreams and innocence into ashes.

Exhaustedly, she fell backwards onto her pastel colored patchwork quilt; twisting sideways she gathered the soft and worn material in her arms, rested her cheek against the bunched cover and held on tightly. Grandma Margaret had made this quilt and that made it as welcome and familiar as an actual hug from the woman herself. Sighing in relief she looked around the room through the pale cream canopy curtains of her bed. Everything in her room was exactly the way she had left it. She also spied the boxes from Paris, physically holding everything about her life in France in their standard brown packaging. Her heart ached at the thought of touching the contents within. She could not even bear to think about it right now, let alone venture to open the boxes.

Squeezing her eyes shut Nicky tried not to think about Paris or anyone she had known while she was there. She also fought very hard not to remember the pain and torture she had gone through in Langley. Instead she puzzled over Abbot's presence in her parents house, and wondered what he was doing here the same night she had been released from her hospital prison. It was not a total shocker that someone with political aspirations and a long history in the CIA would be a dinner guest at the Astor-Parsons' dinner table but the fact that he was here on the same day she had been released from Langley tainted Nicky's homecoming with a sinister air. She really did not know what to think but her instincts were telling her to treat this development with mistrust.

A knock sounded on her door and she froze, knuckles turning white as she held onto the quilt tightly. Another knock rapped on her door and Nicky sat up, wrenching her bedside table drawer open she pressed the false bottom and smiled with grim relief to find her trusty Colt .45 there. Automatically she checked the weapon, and then loaded bullets into the magazine before sliding the magazine back in.

Cocking the weapon, she released the safety catch then called out, "Come in!"

Gerard stepped into the room, "May I get you anything Miss Nicole?"

Nicky hid the handgun beneath the quilt and smiled shakily at Gerard.

"No thanks Gerard, I was just about to go to sleep."

"Is everything to your liking?"

She cast slightly wild eyes around the room then turned back to him, "Yes, yes of course, everything is just the way I left it. Perfect."

Gerard bowed slightly then began to withdraw, "Good night Miss Nicole… it is good to have you back."

Nicky swallowed convulsively, "It's good to _be_ back Gerard."

As the butler reached for the door knob Nicky called out, "Gerard wait!"

"Yes Miss Nicole?"

Nicky used her free hand to wipe at the beads of sweat that had formed on her upper lip when Gerard had knocked on her door.

"May I have some vodka please?"

"Certainly, and what would Miss Nicole like with her vodka?"

Nicky's grip tightened on the hidden Colt, "Lime cordial please Gerard."

The butler left to get her drink and Nicky threw herself backwards on the bed. Her heart was hammering triple time in her chest, the sound of the blood rushing in her body making it hard to think.

She had wanted to ask Gerard about Abbot but did not trust him to tell her the truth nor did she trust herself to handle the information in a cool and professional manner. She was in desperate need of a drink. Without thinking about it, Nicky watched her bedside clock, timing Gerard's disappearance. If he went straight to her father's liquor cabinet in the study, it should take him exactly four minutes to bring her a drink. If he had to administer a poison or drug it would take five minutes or more.

Four and minutes and 20 seconds later Gerard returned carrying a silver tray, a bottle of Stolichnaya vodka and a crystal tumbler with a double shot of vodka and lime. Nicky smiled at him and lifted the tumbler off the serving dish. With lowered lashes she watched him carefully as she drank the contents in one big swallow. Setting the tumbler back on the tray, she swiped the bottle off the tray then leaned back into the multiple pillows on her bed. The Colt was still concealed and firmly clutched in her right hand.

"Shall I bring you some more lime cordial, Miss Nicole?"

Nicky shook her head, "No, no thank you Gerard that will be all."

Gerard pursed his lips disapprovingly but reserved any comments, withdrawing silently.

Nicky slid the safety catch back on the gun and tucked it under her pillows. Unscrewing the bottle top, she took a healthy swig of the alcohol. Tossing the bottle top on the floor Nicky stared up at her canopy ceiling and let the vodka work its magic. If the drink Gerard had brought her was poisoned she would either pass out or die. She was beginning to think that butler betrayal aside, it would be much easier if the latter happened.

A kernel of memory started to unfurl in her mind's eye; she was drinking champagne with Jason Bourne, toasting her 21st birthday. Nicky shook her head irritably and bringing the bottle back to her lips tipped half of its contents down her throat. On her empty stomach, it took less than five minutes for the room to start spinning, Nicky smiled to herself, everything was fuzzy around the edges again, just like when she had been interrogated at Langley. She rose to her feet and fell down, with a vodka flavored hiccup she climbed back onto her bed, wrestling briefly with the canopy curtains. Picking up the bottle of vodka Nicky proceeded to drink the rest then thankfully pass out.

-xxx-

16 October 2002

"Honestly Nicole, how did your horrendously thick hair get so _mousy_ looking? When I saw you in Rome in January you looked much healthier and quite frankly a little less pasty than usual," Mimi Parsons sniffed as she leafed through the latest issue of French Vogue.

They were sitting in Elizabeth Arden; the older Parsons had dragged her daughter to the spa after they had brunch at home. Mimi had complained Nicky was looking far too 'Auschwitz' to be seen in polite company.

Their cucumber gingko mineral face masks were still damp as they sat back and watched two Korean women buff and polish their feet as part of the seaweed and Dead Sea clay pedicure. Nicky who had been staring off into space turned to look at her mother wearily, she was nursing a hangover from last night's solo vodka binge and she could not handle her mother's attempt at parental concern combined with the usual dollop of critical observation.

"I was busy with work."

Mimi raised one perfectly plucked eyebrow, "Well, I should be grateful no one saw you last night, you looked terrible, but if I wasn't slightly hungover, I would _swear_ you look even worse today."

Nicky just turned away, leaning her head back and with very precise movements picked up two fresh cucumber slices and covered her closed eyes with them. Less than 24 hours with her mother and she was beginning to seriously miss her interrogator at Langley.

"Easy with the buffer Joo-Young… and you should get a haircut."

Nicole bit the inside of her cheek to keep from reacting, how was it that when she was at work or anyone else she had such a firm lid on her emotions but with her mother it only took a few ill-concealed barbs to rouse her angst-ridden inner fifteen year old?

"I'm talking to you Nicole," Mimi said sharply.

Nicky lifted the cucumber slices off her eyes and looked at her mother blankly.

"Your ends are _beyond_ help, you should get a haircut after this, I'm sure Jacques will feel very fulfilled after he tackles that coarse… mane of yours." She wrinkled her nose when she said 'mane'.

Nicky felt a spark of protective anger flare inside her as she remembered how Jason had always silently admired her hair. He had even complimented it last year when she came back from visiting Tristan. Then she remembered his large callused hands wrapped around it in Munich then as if in a flash, watched him dismiss, then walk away from her like she did not matter in Paris. As if the very sight of her made his guts churn. A sharp pain radiated in her chest as she slammed the door on Jason Bourne and smiled at her mother.

"You're right Mother… and the shorter the better I think."

Mimi raised both eyebrows at the easy capitulation, but chose not to make an issue of it; she had seen the flash of remembered pain in her daughter's eyes before the guarded look had come back in her brown eyes.

"Don't smile Nicole, your mask is starting to dry and when you stretch your skin unnecessarily it cracks and makes you look old," Mimi scolded.

Nicky's smile died and she turned away from her mother, closing her eyes she prayed for patience.

Mimi picked up the silver platter with fresh cucumber slices and nudged it into her daughter's hands. Frowning inwardly as she went through the motions that ensured a permanently antagonistic relationship with her daughter. Something was very different and wrong with Nicolette; the last thing she could do was express more overt concern than she already had. Derek Parsons had told her that morning it was best to act as normal as possible, something Mimi was more adept at doing than suddenly adopting a mother hen persona.

"Mother, what was Ward Abbot doing at your dinner last night?" Nicky asked casually.

"He's a colleague of your father's Nicole, don't you remember we went hunting with him once in England?"

"No, I don't and maybe that's because I've never been hunting with you in England."

Jeannette would have frowned if she was not so aware of how the mannerism led to wrinkles.

"Oh really? Well, I would have thought you know who he is since he works in Langley, don't tell me they have you doing something very menial over there Nicole."

"I know he works in Langley Mother, I just didn't know he was worthy of Parsons-Astor dinner invites." Nicky remarked dryly.

"Well, his political star has been in the ascendant since… well, since you went to Europe, so you know your father, he can't really let go of that part of his past. Always has to know what's going on, who's who and all that." Mimi waved her hand dismissively.

"So he's been over a lot?" Nicky asked hopefully.

"Not really, but if you want us to invite him more often or get your father to put in a good word and get you moved back home permanently I'll see what we can do, Ward has a _tendre_ for me. Now hush Nicole, you may not be worried about wrinkles but I won't stand for them and my mask is getting dry. Talking will stretch my skin."

Nicky, eyes still closed under the cucumber slices nodded and wondered for the hundredth time since she had seen Ward Abbot on her doorstep, what it all meant.

-xxx-

Derek Parsons watched his daughter as she drank an entire bottle of wine before dessert was served. She was troubled, that much was obvious; she had never been an excessive drinker before. His eyes narrowed as he studied her prominent cheekbones, she had lost weight. Whatever she had been through in Paris must have taken its toll on her. He studied her new hairstyle critically; the chic chocolate brown pageboy flattered her eyes and her leaner features.

"So Nick, how long are you home for?" Derek asked in his deep rumbling voice.

Impassive brown eyes met his, "I'm not sure Dad… you know how it is with the Company."

He nodded with understanding, "Of course Sweetheart, it's good to have you home for however long, the house has been so quiet for too long now."

Nicky gave a Gallic shrug, "Well, I've never been one for noise so I don't know how much difference I will make."

Mimi Astor-Parsons smiled, "It makes a difference darling, trust me."

Nicky's eyes slid over to her mother and she smiled weakly, before reverting her attention to her fingers as they twirled the stem of her empty wine glass. Derek and Mimi shared a look and then not very subtly changing the subject, Mimi started talking about changing the décor in the dining room.

Nicky tuned out, she was well on her way to being intoxicated and was preoccupied with the disembodied feeling that engulfed her. It felt as if she was watching herself from afar with a bird's eye view of the whole room. She could see the slightly defeated slump of her own shoulders while her parents talked about something so trivial it made her want to scream. Did they not know how many lives Nicky had helped snuff out? How could they just sit there while they tried to play happy families with a murdering sociopath? Had they known that this is what she would become? Did she have the right to be drinking and eating the best of the best in this old money town house while so many people who had come into her orbit were now ash and bone? Lying six feet under if they were lucky, lying at the bottom of the ocean or carried off into the ether by the wind if they were not?

Jason Bourne's face flashed in her mind's eye and she heard his laugh, the very rare prize she had strived so hard to earn and cherished so much the handful of times she had achieved it. A cold breeze ghosted across her skin as she remembered Christmas in Munich when she skated on the river with Jason Bourne, CIA assassin extraordinaire, they had laughed and skated and danced like two civilians on a romantic getaway.

Now the man was dead or as good as and his blood was on her hands. Nicky wondered if he had family or loved ones looking for him, waiting for him. Innocent civilians who thought of the sacrifices he was making as heroic and honourable, praying for the day he would come back to them whole and healthy. She shivered internally as she studied her right hand and saw red bloom accusingly out of her half open palm like a flowering red carnation.

It was only when Derek Parsons slapped her across the face that Nicky jolted back into the moment and realised the blood on her hand was not in her imagination, at some point in her reverie she had snapped the stem of her glass, cutting her palm and fingers in numerous places. Nicky blinked repetitively, absently flexing her fingers in a half-hearted attempt to close her palm and block her staring eyes from the accusing carnation of her guilt. She did not notice or care that the action also frustrated her father's efforts to staunch the flow of blood.

As if underwater, Nicky observed the chaos in the room; her mother was screaming for Gerard to bring the first aid kit; the table cloth under her hand stained with glass fragments and blood. Derek Parsons spoke very calmly to Nicky but she could not understand what he was saying, the words distorted as if they were a tape recording being chewed by a machine.

'It's okay Dad, the blood and glass is no big deal, its part of who I am. It's what I do. I'll call a clean up crew to take care of this. Dad? Dad? Please tell Jeannette, I mean _Mimi_, to stop screeching, it'll give her wrinkles.' Nicky thought, still unable to respond in any way that would calm the fear growing in her normally unflappable father's eyes.

Gerard approached Nicky from across the table, Nicky's eyes lit up with pleased recognition, he would understand, he always understood. He was the one person who had known when she needed to talk somebody after Grandma Margaret's death, bringing her grilled cheese sandwiches and a sympathetic ear while her own parents just did not have the time.

"Miss Nicole, I need to clean your hand and bandage it, Juan here will clear the broken glass." Gerard reassured her.

Nicky bit her lip and nodded with relief, her mother and father seemed frozen where they stood as they watched Gerard skirt the table, place a calm hand on Nicky's shoulder and then slide it under her elbow to help her stand. Shaking her father's hand and the bloodied napkin off her injured hand she smiled up at Gerard and let him lead her out of the dining room, drops of blood splashing on her mother's Persian rug as they went.

Derek and Mimi Parsons traded shocked and alarmed looks as they heard Nicky say to Gerard, "Thank God you're here, at least _someone_ in this house knows how to react sanely to a little blood and glass."

-xxx-

17 October 2002

**The River Seine, Paris**

Jason Bourne stared at the outline of the Cathédral de Nôtre Dame and frowned wonderingly. Instinct told him coming back to Paris or even staying in France was not a good idea but he could not help the feeling of having left something important behind. The feeling that Paris housed something very important to the man he had been before Marseille. Something that was not all blood, death and shadows, but for the life of him he could not determine if this 'something' was an object, a house or a person. He had wandered the myriad streets of Paris clandestinely over the last few weeks, no memories flashed except for the remembered feeling that he had known the place like the back of his hand. A feeling that was never more pronounced than when he walked along the Seine. Locked in the recesses in his mind there was an important link to this river, this location but it seemed destined to remain a secret. He sat down on the wooden bench closest to him and let out a slightly defeated sigh.

It was evident that he was suffering from some kind of PTSD, that's why he remembered everything else but anything personal to him. He had not only wandered the streets of Paris but visited what he assumed to be old haunts. He had found a warehouse on a private piece of land in the outskirts of Paris, Jason had instinctively known he had privately trained here. Taking a backpack full of weapons and ammo, Jason had also found the $100,000 he had hidden in a secret panel behind the fuse box.

The longer he had stayed in Paris, the easier his training had come back to him. Observing unwritten rules of safety and care that came as natural to him as reading or writing, Jason was becoming more and more comfortable in his own skin.

The waters of the Seine splashed along the sides of the bridge and Jason sighed to himself. Marie had asked him if he had family looking for him or if he thought there might be and it troubled Jason that it had not even crossed his mind until she had brought it up.

As always when he thought of Marie the block of ice that had congealed in his chest started to thaw and melt, bringing the pain of defrost after the ice had numbed everything. However the pain was welcome because it reassured Jason that he was still a flesh and blood human being with feelings.

The sun was coming up over the Parisienne skyline and Jason did not think he had ever seen anything as beautiful as the Cathédral bathed in dawn light. If he had it was lost in the ether that was Jason before Marseille.

He wondered if whomever he had been in the past had appreciated such things or had had anyone to share them with. He thought of Marie and wished she was here beside him marvelling in that refreshingly normal way of hers at something so simple but beautiful.

Jason's breath caught in his throat as he had an epiphany; the fishermen on the boat and Marie were all he had to call family, and their selfless decisions to succour and aid a strange man was all he needed to know of the man he wanted to be. He wanted to be a man who deserved their kindness, who deserved the gift of survival and freedom they had unwittingly given him.

Whatever he had lost was not important because it was a part of the life that revolved around Treadstone. Natural as killing and strategising was the sense of control and power he felt, filled him with revulsion. So he evidently was no longer the same man he had been before Marseille.

Romantic as Paris was, virtually nothing good had happened to him here, except for Marie. In fact nothing good had happened to him in France, except for being rescued off a boat and delivering an emphatic message to the people he had worked for. The rising sun's rays started to chase away the shadows on Jason's bench; the sun bathed half of Jason and the bench in light while the other remained in the dark. He laughed mentally at the poetic-ness of it all. He knew what he had to do now; he had to leave Paris and whatever secret of the heart his former persona housed in Paris, behind.

He needed to make sure he was safe and nobody was following him, when he had done that to the best of his abilities, he would go to Marie. She was all he needed to know of the future and of a loved one. Rising to his feet, Jason walked away from the Cathédral, throwing one last longing look at the church as he took the steps off the bridge, before he disappeared into a dark alley and confidently marched to an uncertain but hopeful future.

-xxx-

17 October 2002 

**UES, NYC**

Nicky stood in her father's study, staring at the eastern wall which housed his leather-bound books. Spying the Shakespearean plays, her hand hovered uncertainly over Romeo and Juliet.

"_**What's in a name, Nicky? If a rose were to be called anything but a rose would it not still smell as sweet?"**_

"_**Shakespeare, huh? You're bringing out the big guns tonight."**_

"_**Whatever it takes."**_

"_**So what happens if Big Daddy Conklin finds out about you and me? When he finds out that you have been training me and that you have been sleeping with me?"**_

"_**Conklin won't find out, I won't let that happen."**_

"_**But what if he does? What if he does and worst case scenario, he orders someone to take me out?"**_

"_**I'd stop him or her, you know that Nicky."**_

"_**And what if he orders you to do it Jason? What then?"**_

Nicky screwed her eyes tight against the memory, her bandaged hand falling uselessly to her side as she stared at the bookshelf in misery. There was no escaping the memories of Treadstone, Jason or the life she had led in Paris. Even when she tried not to think of it, the memories came flooding in past any dam walls she had built to staunch the tide. How in God's name was she supposed to move on when she could not even look at a book and without thinking of everything she had lost?

"That was quite the performance you put on last night Sweetheart." Derek Parsons said as he walked into his study.

Nicky jumped; taking a deep breath to reign in her emotions she turned to face her father, watching him as he walked across the blue and gold Persian rug to sit behind his intimidating mahogany desk.

"I'm sorry I got blood all over Grandma Margaret's table cloth, I've already paid for it to be cleaned and restored," she said quietly. Nicky knew, that her father knew, she was being facetious.

Derek Parsons openly studied her as he gestured for her to sit down in one of the two chairs facing him across the desk. Dressed in black jeans and a white Ralph Lauren long sleeved polo shirt, his daughter looked like she always had. The bandaged right hand and the wary, careful brown eyes that promised to hold a thousand and one dark secrets in their impenetrable depths were new. He used to find her easy to read, everything she was feeling and thinking written on her face and in her eyes. The impenetrable walls that she had built now were as foreign to him as Ancient Sumerian. Derek was at a loss as to how to handle this new and undoubtedly more complex woman.

Nicky let her father study her, both of her parents had been shaken by the new Nicky, she shrugged mentally. _She_ was shaken by the new Nicky too. Hands in her lap, the left cupping the right, she pulled her shoulders back and fixed an intense Jason Bourne gaze on her father. The older man flinched imperceptibly. Nicky noted the tension around his eyes and smiled inwardly, handling Treadstone assets was going to make this very easy.

"One of my bosses was at dinner the night I got back Dad, what was he doing here?"

"Who? Ward Abbot? He's going places sweetheart, so you know me, I gotta have the up and comers at my table." Gerard smiled at her apprehensively.

Nicky's eyes narrowed imperceptibly, her question had made him uneasy, a part of secretly relished this but the cautionary voice in her head warned that her behaviour was so erratic that it was going to get her the wrong kind of attention. Nicky silently debated on trusting her father, letting him understand the pain she was in without divulging Treadstone secrets. After all he had worked for the Agency.

"I'm really sorry about last night Dad, I'm just having some trouble… adjusting."

"Adjusting to what Nick?"

She shrugged, letting her guard down a little as she let some of the torment, confusion and sadness show in her eyes, "Adjusting to… the facts. To what happened… and to being back home."

Derek Parsons leaned forward, resting his elbows on the desk and tenting his fingers, "Well, your mother and I are very glad to have you home Sweetheart, and I understand that you can't talk about Paris or Conklin."

Nicky's eyes widened, she had temporarily forgotten about Conklin, "Oh my God that's right, you guys were at West Point together."

"Alex was one helluva soldier, not very good at the life stuff but better than most at his job and a true patriot. It took a load off my shoulders when I found out you were working with him," her father said with nostalgic pride.

Nicky nodded in agreement, stifling the urge to tell him about the Castel attack, or about how fast Conklin had turned on Jason when the shit hit the proverbial fan.

Her father bounced his palms on the desk and gave her an insincere grin, "Anyway kiddo what's going on with you? You getting enough R and R? How's your hand?"

"My hand's fine." Nicky said irritably.

"So what's going on, you hit the sauce pretty heavily last night."

Nicky's left hand, still cradling her bandaged right, tightened into a fist, "Would you like me to tell you about the horrors I experienced? Would you even understand?"

Derek frowned disapprovingly, "'Course I'd understand, but what I don't understand is why you would feel the need to _tell_ me. Real agents don't need to talk about this stuff, only spoilt princesses from the Upper East Side do. And I may not be the perfect father Nick but I didn't raise a spoilt princess did I?"

Nicky's lips flattened into a thin line, she closed her eyes so her father would not see how hurtful his words were.

"When you told me you wanted to join the CIA I was so proud of you caus I knew you could handle it. I wasn't wrong about you was I kiddo? You didn't just join the CIA to go and play Charlie's Angels did you?"

A thousand sounds and images assaulted Nicky as she ran her mental highlights reel of the last three years. Jason on her 21st birthday, having Tristan and then leaving him in Cuba, training with Jason, Dublin, Munich, Castel's attack, Jason's rejection, Treadstone's demise, the pain and anguish of being left behind, then two weeks in Langley. With superhuman effort she forced her eyes open, banishing the sights and sounds to the recesses of her brain.

"Of course not Dad, you weren't wrong about me… now I'm sure you're really busy so I'll just get out of your hair," she spoke with a brightness she was far from feeling.

Derek smiled at her with a pleased but distracted twist of his lips, inclining his head in silent permission as she made to stand up. She skirted around his desk and placed a peremptory kiss on his cheek then walked out of the room without looking back.

As soon as the door to her father's study was shut behind her, she ran up the stairs to her room and slammed the door. Her right hand twinged in protest to the pain the rough contact with the door caused. Nicky hugged herself tightly, trying to hold herself together, press her bleeding insides back in as she observed for the umpteenth time that her parents were virtually incapable of an emotion as simple as unconditional love or even plain understanding. They were unable to provide her the support she needed when everyone and everything she had known for the last three years had died around her or worse.

She blinked fearfully, she was all alone and the pressure on her to be the old Nicky was so subtle but immense that she felt like she was being crushed one breath at a time. She stood rigidly in her bedroom, fighting hard not to scratch her skin; it did not feel comfortable anymore because she was no longer the same person that used to inhabit it. She was a hybrid and the more she thought about it, the less she doubted she was fully human. How could she be when everybody else was gone but she was still standing?

The cacophony of noise and images that was the last three years started to grow louder in her head again, so was the fear and uncertainty her two week sojourn in Langley had wrought. She flashed back to her first two days in Langley, they had barely touched her, asking careful empirical questions and recording them all.

"_**Amnesia, in your opinion and experience with Treadstone assets, is that even possible?"**_

"_**I don't know. I didn't think so until I saw Bourne in the safe house, he was genuinely confused and scared."**_

"_**How old are you Miz Parsons?"**_

"_**I'm 22."**_

"_**Rather young to be the principal logistics and handler of over 3 billion dollars of US government property don't you think?"**_

"_**I don't know, I guess you'd have to ask Conklin."**_

"_**Conklin's dead, you know that."**_

"_**Then I don't know what to tell you."**_

"_**How about you tell us, how a slip of a girl like you got such a high pressure job so early in the game? How come you are the only one left standing when Jason Bourne killed everybody else?"**_

"_**I don't think he killed Conklin."**_

"_**Excuse me?"**_

"_**If he wanted to kill Conklin he could and would have done it in the safe house. He could have killed me then too, but he didn't. Something in him must have recognised us as his co-workers."**_

"_**Is this your professional opinion?"**_

"_**It's my opinion."**_

"_**So tell me something Nicolette, why would Jason Bourne who claimed to have amnesia know how to and manage to evade everything the CIA threw at him in Paris?"**_

"_**I don't know… I think his amnesia is a post traumatic stress kind of thing, the assets all suffered from headaches, mood swings, insomnia… they were wound pretty tight so maybe-"**_

"_**You're talking out of your ass? Covering for him?"**_

"_**No! I'm-"**_

"_**Outta time, we wanted to do this the nice way but you aren't cooperating. Agent Walker will take over now."**_

"_**No wait! Please don't do this."**_

"_**Tell me what I wanna hear Nicolette and no one lifts a hair on your head. Where is Jason Bourne? What's his angle? Who's he working with?"**_

"_**Oh my God… I've told you already, I don't know."**_

"_**Then you leave me no choice."**_

Nicky felt her breath come out in short, harsh bursts, she needed Jason but Jason was gone. He did not care about her or know who she was, nor did he want to know. Nicky pressed her arms against her ribs even tighter, she was starting to come apart at the seams and there was no guarantee she would ever be able to put herself together again. She cast her eyes wildly around her room, her eyes fell on the cardboard boxes housing her former life in Paris and her breath hitched painfully in her throat. Spying the empty vodka bottle from the night before on her dresser Nicky nearly cried out in triumph.

Wrenching her door open she ran downstairs and into the kitchen. Sneaking past their chef, she tiptoed down into the cellar. Falling to her knees on the cool floor, Nicky pulled out her father's 40-year old Glenfiddich and unscrewed the cap, taking a healthy swig. The alcohol burned an unpleasant but welcome trail of fire down her throat. She took one more swig before she screwed the cap back on, rising to her feet she tucked the bottle under her right arm and strode purposefully out of the cellar.

With grim relief she smiled to herself, she had found a way to silence the voices and the memories and still keep her insides relatively intact. It was a band-aid over a bullet wound but it was all she had right now.

-xxx-

Was it too much? Does Nicky not strike y'all as UES material? She's well dressed and polished enough in all three movies to be in my view. She's no Blair Waldorf or Serena Van der Woodsen but I think she needs to act out a little bit after what she's been through.


	13. Chapter 13 Renaissance

**The Untold Story**** – ****Part Two**

**Chapter 2 – Renaissance – Starting Over**

_Four hundred miles talking to myself_

_Me and your memory end up here_

_I tell myself_

_I'm gonna be alright_

_But it's still not clear_

_Did I just miss the last exit to Eden_

_Is this the only love I'll know_

_Like a Judas kiss did my heart betray me_

_Back on the road I never chose_

_There are some sins that you can't justify_

_But not the one I'm guilty of_

_I had a choice one last chance ago_

_But I turned my back on love_

- **Last Exit to Eden**, Amanda Marshall

28 October 2002

**Marseille, France**

Jason Bourne stared at the water that had given birth to him a month and a half ago. It was the only womb and only mother he knew. Somewhere across these waters and the Atlantic Ocean they spilled into; lay the place of his original birth and the womb and mother that had birthed him approximately 29-32 years ago.

He frowned at the grey mass of water, something must have happened over there to turn him into a human killing machine. His fists clenched at his sides, something bad that must be so painful, his brain had decided was not worth remembering. He felt the usual headache attempts at remembering brought on, crash through his skull.

Stubbornly, he refused to let his knees buckle from the pain. Standing ramrod straight, his hands at his sides, feet planted slightly apart, Jason felt that surety in his bones that transcended actual memory; he must have been a soldier at some stage.

Refocusing on the water, he squinted at the horizon; there must have been something good over there in America right? Something that now made him find murder in the name of government repellent? Something that had made his life worth saving and Marie not only want to help him but start to fall in love with him, right? Something noble and true that made him decide to serve his country, the Land of the Free and Home of the Brave in the way he was obviously good at right?

He took a deep breath and wondered if he should return to the United States, maybe something there would trigger the memory he needed? Maybe something there had the power to make him whole enough to be something more than a bad omen or a harbinger of danger and death to all of those innocent civilians. Ordinary people who did not deserve to be caught in Jason Bourne, the CIA killer's, web of destruction.

Every instinct in his body screamed that this was the wrong move. It would draw too much attention. But then nobody would expect him to go back to the States. So with a shrug and one last look across the water, Jason walked away resolutely. He was going to America, going to see if anything triggered a memory. If not he would come back to France and find Marie. Whatever else happened, he would come back to her and convince her that he had at least tried to find anyone that might be missing him.

-xxx-

28 October 2002

**Club Bed, Manhattan, New York**

A year ago Nicky had been basking in the faded afterglow of; her summer with Lee, Tristan and Troy as well as hers and Jason's impromptu trip to Dublin. The attacks on the Twin Towers had also happened and Conklin had been working them all to the bone. Jason's headaches had been getting worse, so had his mood swings, but in hindsight that had been a simpler time.

Nicky sat in the private smoke-filled VIP lounge and raised a vodka martini to the memory of Jason Bourne, palming two little cream colored pills she tossed them in her mouth and washed them down with the cocktail.

Was it only a month ago that Jason Bourne had walked out of her life for good? Was it only two weeks ago that Nicky had thought the pain and torture in Langley would never end? Had it really been a little over three years since she had met the men who had built then destroyed Treadstone? Should she have followed Jason to Zurich, intercepted him there and run off with him? If she really loved him, then why had she waited for him to come to Paris, to ditch her there and run off to be with Marie? Why had she never told him she loved him? Was his absence in her life her fault? Had she unconsciously sold him out, letting Conklin and Treadstone call all the shots and failing dismally to react accordingly? Had the Professor been right?

Nicky turned to look at the friends she had met up with, all three of them were the stereotypical spoilt little rich kids, bored and jaded in a way only the obscenely privileged could be. There was Brett and William Vanderbilt, two relatively tall, classic American good looking men dressed in the traditional polo shirt, khaki pants and Ralph Lauren sweater vest combo that made all rich kids look like they were made in a factory. Then there was John Gilbert, old South Carolina money, he at least had the guts to wear Levis and white cashmere Tom Ford sweater with cowboy boots.

"Nicole baby, you gotta _share_ the toast and the fun pills with the rest of the group, you know that!" Exclaimed Brett Vanderbilt, as he scooped her Fendi purse off the table, rummaged through it and produced a vial of pills with a flourish. At 20 he was the youngest person in the lounge but also the richest.

Nicky rolled her purple kohl lined eyes and smirked, "I was toasting to the future Brett and since we all know you don't have one, I decided not to make you feel bad."

Brett handed out the pills to the other occupants of their table and poured Grey Goose vodka into four shot glasses, "Yeah, yeah whatever, going into the family business and marrying for status, may not be original but it won't be so bad. Maybe if you stopped trying so hard to be an independent and original _plebe_, you'd find the Upper East Side a lot more appealing, Nick baby."

Nicky accepted the glass of vodka from him and raising her glass, waited for Brett to give a toast.

"So this is to being young, hot, rich and fabulous, the world is ours to do with as we wish and no rag-head terrorists or WMDs in Iraq is gonna change that 'cause Uncle Sam's too Goddamn powerful."

"Here, here!" The table cheered as they downed the shots.

Brett made a face, swallowing Nicky's pills then grinning mischievously, "Besides, now that good ole Captain America's hiring even UES brats like Nick here to give etiquette courses and whatnot to the unwashed desert dwellers, we _know_ we're gonna win!"

Everyone at the table but Nicky laughed. Snatching her vial of pills out of Brett's hand Nicky grabbed her purse and made to rise. William Vanderbilt acted quickly, grabbing her around the waist and plopping her in his lap.

"Don't listen to Brett dollface, the night's just beginning! I've got all kinds of surprises planned, including a joyride in my new Ferrari." William cajoled.

Nicky wanted to smack the grin off his face then she reminded herself that she was no longer that Nicky anymore. She was supposed to be a good time girl now. Supposed to be showing her father and Langley that her two-week torture stint meant nothing to her and that she was not going to crack. She was also showing Jason Bourne who would have abhorred this type of high-profile living she was doing, that she did not care about him or think about him anymore. She too had moved on.

Putting her arms around William's neck she leaned in and kissed him seductively, pulling away she leaned across him and kissed John Gilbert languorously. All the while, William's hands roamed over her purple sequinned, sleeveless and backless, Roberto Cavalli, mini-dress.

Pulling away from John she gave Brett a haughty look as his cousin William's hand traveled up her naked thigh and under the hem of her dress. When it found its target and started playing with it, Nicky spread her legs a little wider in William's lap then leaned back on the white Egyptian sheets. John rose and pulling the opaque white curtains closed around their private lounge, came to sit behind her, his hands and lips expertly traveling down her neckline.

Nicky felt her orgasm come closer as she replaced Brett's shocked and envious blue eyes with Jason's, smiling to herself coldly, she drowned out the tiny voice of doubt inside her that kept asking if she was doing the right thing. William's fingers were a little rougher than the old Nicky liked but they were perfect for the new Nicky. When John exposed her right nipple and started expertly licking it, Nicky felt the ripples of her release start to gather inside her. Brett's eyes darkened as he watched, riveted, at the public display in front of him.

Nicky's hips began to gyrate and pump up and down in time with the quickening motions of William's hand. She felt the Ecstasy she had taken start to take effect but kept her eyes on the Jason only she could see. Her climax came and she moaned, her breath coming in harsh pants as William slid her off his lap then moving the hem of her dress up, bent down to use his mouth. Brett gasped in shock as Nicky, eyes still on him winked. She replaced him again with Jason and smiled. Yes, this was exactly how she was going to erase him out of her mind and out of her heart. It had been two weeks of non-stop partying and he still haunted her, so she was just going to have to get creative.

-xxx-

6 November 2002

**42****nd**** Street, New York City**

Jason sat on a bench in the cold New York dusk and studied his map of the United States for the umpteenth time. No particular State or city was ringing any bells, none other than the usual suspects; Washington D.C., Langley, Virginia, Chicago, Illinois, Los Angeles, California and Las Vegas, Nevada.

Searching for a non-generic memory was like looking for a needle in a haystack. The exercise was not only futile but beginning to grate on his last nerve. Whatever lay hidden in the recesses of his mind was well and safely concealed.

With a sigh, he drained the remainder of his Starbucks cardboard cup and rose from his seat, he was just going to let his body do the walking. Maybe it would lead him somewhere good.

-xxx-

**Nobu Restaurant, Manhattan**

Nicky snorted a couple more lines of cocaine and then straightened up from the toilet seat lid she was sitting on. Flushing the toilet unnecessarily, she pushed out of the cubicle and studied her reflection critically. She was wearing a long-sleeved, backless white Christian Dior dress. The hem was 10 inches above her knees and when she breathed in, it crawled up a few more inches higher. Her brown pageboy hair cut had been streaked with purple, and then teased and gelled into a Pink-style Mohawk. It was her own personal tribute to Marie Kreutz, the woman had sported multi-colored hair for Godssakes.

Her eyes were lined with purple kohl and mascara, eyelids dusted with glittering silver eye shadow, lips and cheeks rouged. She noted with satisfaction that anyone who had known her in Paris would not recognise her. The sense of anonymity gave her confidence. Hitching her gold chain strapped, black Chanel purse on her right shoulder, she strode back into the restaurant.

Danny Zorn stood up as she approached the intimate table, sitting down again after Nicky was seated. He could not stop staring at her, the dress, the dramatic makeup and hair had him riveted.

"Danny, you're staring." Nicky commented drily as she drank half the contents of her wine glass.

Danny blinked and shook his head apologetically, his face flushing, "Sorry, you just look so…"

"Sexy?"

"Different and kinda scary… but it's sexy too," Danny spoke hurriedly.

Nicky lifted her left shoulder in a graceful and sensual shrug, "It's why you asked me out isn't it?"

Danny swallowed unnecessarily, "Actually, I asked you out because Abbot told me about your resignation last week at… well uh, Colonel Parsons'-"

Nicky's eyebrow went up in detached amusement, "My brother's funeral."

Danny nodded, his neck growing hot under Nicky's jaded scrutiny.

"Tell Abbot I haven't changed my mind, I'm still done with the Agency."

Danny leaned forward, placing his palms flat on the table earnestly.

"Nicky, I know you're grieving and your family is going through a lot right now, but-"

Nicky waved him away, "I barely knew my brother and we were not close. What happened to him in Afghanistan is a hazard of the job."

She poured herself some more red wine, silently asking Danny if he wanted a top up by shaking the bottle at him, he shook his head and the corners of her mouth turned down. Picking up her glass she toasted him then drank the entire contents of the glass in three big gulps. Picking up the bottle again she emptied the remainder into her glass. Danny watched her uncomfortably, they had not yet been served the starter and Nicky had drank two bottles of Côte du Rhône. Nicky noted his disapproval and smiled to herself, she suspected Danny Zorn had feelings for her. Bored with partying with the Vanderbilts, she found Zorn's apologetic eagerness to please a refreshing diversion from the demons that were driving her.

"It's okay Zorn, I'm not on the clock and I have my father's driver to take me home."

Danny cleared his throat and looked into her jaded brown eyes, "I know, but this isn't you Nicky."

Her lips twisted in an amused smirk, "Do tell me what _is_ me, Zorn, I've gotten a little fuzzy on the deets."

"You're a kind, hard-working, conscientious person, Nicky. You're pretty fucking smart but you know that your power as a woman comes from the quiet and wise strength you radiate. Not crazy hair and obscene makeup. Definitely not this excessive boozing and partying, jaded spoilt little rich girl bit you've been doing." Danny spoke with quiet conviction.

Nicky's eyes hardened, "It's not a _bit_, it's what I am… if it wasn't, you and I wouldn't be having this conversation because I would have been dead and broken in Langley after Paris. Which reminds me, thanks a bunch for letting them torture me for two whole weeks before coming to visit me in the infirmary, I really felt like I was part of the circle of trust."

She pushed her chair back and shouldered her purse, draining her glass she set it on the table with a thud then gave Danny the finger before striding out of the restaurant on her impossibly high Manolo Blahniks.

-xx-

**Central Park, New York**

Jason watched the svelte looking, leggy brunette sporting a purple tinged mohawk, in a white backless mini-dress as she stomped past him then sat down on the nearest bench. He noted she was barefoot, her gold heels were clutched in her left hand and she was holding a black purse with a gold chain strap in her right hand. Reading her body language, Jason observed she looked sad, lost and alone. Something akin to sympathy stirred inside him as she failed to suppress a shiver. In the -5° weather he imagined she must be freezing. Before he could get up and offer his jacket or some help, Christina Aguilera's, _**Dirrty**_, started to ring out of her purse.

She dug in her purse and flipped the phone open. She did not say anything, the man on the other line speaking so loudly; Jason could hear him in the quiet park.

"Nick! Baby! You just stomped past me and Brett into the park! We're on our way over to you sweet thing, and man do we have a party planned for you this time!"

The brunette shook a little from the cold before yelling into the phone, "So come and get me fuckers, I _seriously_ need to party!"

Jason heard some footsteps in the darkness then, "We're right here!"

He watched two dark-haired rich yuppie types approach the brunette who jumped up and leaving the shoes behind, shouldered her purse, snapped the phone shut and gratefully accepted the long dark woollen coat the younger looking one of the two men put around her shoulders.

"Oh Thank God, let's get out of here, its fucking freezing!"

"Oh you're gonna love where we're going baby!"

"Where's that?"

"Barbados! I've got my Dad's jet waiting for us."

The brunette let the older man lift her into his arms but as he hoisted her up she saw Jason, her eyes widening in shock then recognition before the younger man blocked her view.

Jason jumped up from the bench and blended away into the trees so that by the time Nicky had thrown herself out of William's arms and pushed Brett out of the way, there was no one there. Frozen in mid-stride as she looked around in confusion, Jason's name died unspoken on her lips.

Turning to look at William and Brett's expectant faces, Nicky quashed down the feeling of desertion swirling around her and threatening to suffocate her. She let William pick her up again and carry her away.

As William deposited her in the warm limo, Nicky frowned introspectively, automatically accepting the brimming whiskey tumbler Brett handed her. She could have sworn the man in the park was real. Catching her own reflection in the limo window, her hand shook slightly as she contemplated the possibility that she had really seen someone and that this someone was Jason. Why had he run away from her?

"Come on Nick, drink up!"

Giving her head a mental shake she gave Brett a blinding smile that did not reach her eyes; she obviously needed more distractions, she was still seeing Jason everywhere, a drunken trip to the Caribbean was as good a place any to start.

-xx-

Jason watched the limo bearing the brunette who seemed to have recognised him, drive away with mixed feelings. The recognition that had flashed in her eyes and the sound of her voice confused him. It stirred something foreign in his breast, but whatever it was, it was not unpleasant. He was unsure if that feeling was a memory with emotional weight or if he was just craving human contact.

As the limo's taillights disappeared into the night Jason turned back to study the bench housing a forgotten pair of gold high heels. Reaching down to touch them Jason's mind flashed back to a frozen lake in Munich, he was skating on the surface and the air was a crisp kind of cold, the scent of hazelnuts, apple and cinnamon fragrant in the air. He heard a woman's laugh, clear, warm and genuine. He tried with all his might to get a look at the face or hear the words she was speaking but all he could hear was lively polka being played by an orchestra. He could also see the woman's red and green skates with gold tassels. He tried to hold onto the image of her feet, determine what size shoe she wore but he could not. Then the memory was gone and he was standing in Central Park holding a designer pair of women's high heels. Irritated, Jason threw the shoes in a nearby trashcan and left the park, it was time he moved on, the brittle and jaded lifestyle of Manhattan filled him with distaste. Whatever lay in his past was not here.

-xx-

_A/N: I'm sorry this bit is so short the next chapter is long and kind of moves things along a little. I got carried away wanting to explore Nicky acting out because of what she's gone through. I hope it isn't too OTT! Let me know what y'all think! Next chapter will be up in a couple weeks. xx Dulce_


	14. Chapter 14 Learning to Crawl

**A/N: **The number of new readers (as shown by new story alerts) that this fic continues to accumulate, totally and completely humbles me. Welcome to all the noobs for adding me to your alerts and/or reviewing this fic, it means the world to me. The second part of this story is almost complete, it will end with the confrontation in Berlin between Jason and Nicky as seen in **The Bourne Supremacy**. We've got one or maybe two more chapters to go and then we're in the third leg of the race. Thank y'all for sticking with me, it is my intention to be done the movie parts of this fic by the end of this year. The whole thing should have been done but I recently got promoted at work and there is so much more to do that I get home and am completely drained. Half the time I'm not even around for the weekend! Anyhoodle, onwards and upwards as they say!

* * *

**The Untold Story – Part Two**

**Chapter 3 – Learning to Crawl**

_If I smile and don't believe_

_Soon I know I'll wake from this dream_

_Don't try to fix me I'm not broken_

_Hello _

_I'm the lie living for you so you can hide_

_Don't cry_

_Suddenly I know I'm not sleeping_

_Hello_

_I'm still here all that's left of yesterday_

_**Hello**_, Evanescence

* * *

9 November 2002

**Washington D.C.**

Nicky blinked awake from a deep dreamless sleep. Silently she took stock of her surroundings, she could not remember what had happened the night before, but she was in a foreign a bed, the cold fingers of dawn streaking across the bleak sky visible through the open white blinds. She lifted the covers slightly taking note of her nakedness then turning her head to observe the lanky, pale and freckled male form sleeping next to her.

_Who's that?_

She sat up in the bed and felt her stomach roil with nausea, she had drank too much last night. Again.

It was coldly reassuring in her upside down world.

The man shifted in his sleep, rolling over so that he faced her. Recognition was quickly replaced by a soul-wrenching stab of revulsion.

_Danny Zorn. _

Nicky brutally quashed any thoughts of shame and horror, crept out of the bed and picked up her discarded clothing. She padded to the bathroom on bare feet and shut the door behind her with a firm click.

Carefully avoiding the bathroom mirror, she put her clothes on, and then opened the cold water faucet to wash her face. Gargling some mouthwash, she spat the mint-flavored liquid and watched the water carry it down the drain. Shutting the faucet, Nicky turned away from the sink and sat down on the toilet seat with a resigned sigh. What had she done?

-xxx-

9 November 2002

**Baltimore, Maryland**

Jason listened to the sounds of the motel occupants next door as they indulged in yet another round of loud sex. He was doing push ups on the threadbare rug by his bed and fighting very hard to dispel the images of him fucking some young blonde woman in a hotel room somewhere in Europe. As the woman in the room next door screamed her climax, Jason flashed back to the blonde, the one who was blindfolded and gagged while he poured hot wax on her back and penetrated her from behind. She jerked in pain, her cries muffled by the gag as Jason rode her hard. He had tugged her hair back like the silken mass was a reign, teasing her clitoris with the fingers of his right hand. The muscles in her back had been rigid with pain but she had moistened due to his relentless ministrations. He'd practically roared when she climaxed, drenching his hand as his own release swiftly followed.

Jason stopped doing his push-ups and flung himself to his feet. Squeezing his eyes shut tightly, and willing the image to go away, his breath came out in desperate gasps. He did not like this man he had been. It was the third time in as many days that he had been plagued with images like this. Last night he had dreamt of himself indulging in some hardcore S&M with a dark-haired woman who had enjoyed herself as much as he had.

Jason had come to America for answers; nothing he had remembered had inspired any confidence in the man he used to be. If it wasn't violent sex, it was murder that he saw in numerous places, which all led to one conclusion. Jason Bourne had been an expert administrator of pain. Some, like the dark-haired woman he had remembered the night before had welcomed it. Others like the young blonde in his latest flashback had not.

Looking around the scantily furnished motel room, Jason scowled in frustration. If this was all the memories America held for him, there was no need to relive anymore of it.

He did not like the rush of satisfaction he felt at the thought of his proficiency in killing. Even now the violent instincts inside him proved that it was as easy as breathing, if he let himself go there.

Fists bunched at his sides, he slammed the door on all the fragmented memories he had garnered so far and automatically started to wipe down the motel for prints. He was going back to Europe and to Marie. There was nobody and nothing left for him here.

-xx-

11 November 2002

**Miami, Florida**

Nicky lit the solitary candle on the slice of cake she had ordered from the hotel kitchen and watched it flicker to life.

Today Tristan was two years old, if Lee and Troy were still in Asia, then the toddler had celebrated his birthday hours earlier with all that he knew of family and friends surrounding him. The kid had no idea he had a mother called Nicolette Parsons, or a father called Jason Bourne. They had agreed back in Cuba that they would not tell him about his parents until it was older and it was safer.

Leaning back on the dressing table bench Nicky forced herself not to wonder about Jason Bourne. It was difficult today because she was sober; she had not taken any drugs or drunk any alcohol since last night. A warm breeze wafted in through the open balcony doors, causing the flame to flicker violently before continuing to valiantly burn.

Nicky took a deep breath and let it out slowly, contemplating her life at the moment. Her act of rebellion was becoming hard work. She was not and had never been vapid or a whore. Her recent behaviour however, contradicted that. It had started out innocently enough, confuse the Company and forget about Jason Bourne but she was starting to lose herself in the process. The torture in Langley was a blur most of the time except when she had nightmares.

She still saw Jason everywhere and she still had nightmares where he ignored and abandoned her in Paris in a thousand different ways. When she awakened, Nicky's eyes would be dry. Her fingers gripped the edge of the dressing table convulsively. Ever since Jason had disappeared off the boat in Marseilles, she had lost the ability to cry.

She studied her reflection in the mirror, the solitary candle illuminating her reflection in the dimly lit suite. Her shoulders were slightly slumped and there were dark smudges and slight bags under her eyes. Her hands rose up to cup her cheeks, and then pull at the skin around her eyes. She looked exhausted and unhappy. Her brown and purple locks, wet and spiky from her recent shower served to make her sallow complexion more dramatic.

The door to her suite opened silently and Brett Vanderbilt stepped into her room.

"It is far too early in the evening and _you_ are _far _too sober to be studying your reflection like that."

Nicky's hands fell away from her face and her eyes met Brett's in the mirror. She rose as Brett held his arms open to her and walked over to where he stood by her bed. Wrapping his arms around her, he fell back taking her with him to land on the bed. Nicky yelped in surprise while he chuckled at her reaction. Arranging themselves so that she lay in his arms, Brett kissed her temple then held her tighter.

"You wanna tell me what the candle and cake is for?"

Nicky suppressed a frown, "It's Remembrance Day dumbass."

Brett tensed then relaxed, "What are you remembering in particular?"

Nicky's fingers absently traced her wrist, finding the invisible line that demarcated Frank Castel's assault, "The girl I used to be."

Brett did not respond immediately, watching with fascination as the flame stubbornly refused to be extinguished by the breeze wafting in from the sea.

"I hear she was a geek."

Nicky tensed.

"She would never wear skirts as short as the ones you wear, definitely never approve of the decadent lifestyle you've been leading this last month." Brett continued.

"Yeah she was a real prude, and totally full of herself… she was also very naïve and into stuff like good deeds for the sake of it. You know, a real bore." Nicky said in a detached voice.

Brett leaned down and kissed her on the forehead, "I have great fun with you and I really like and admire you for breaking out of your shell but the old you sounds like someone I could have loved."

"Really? The old me _had_ no one to love her."

"Neither does the new you baby… this life you've been leading is too fast for love."

"Guess I'd rather live fast then."

She made to get out of his embrace and blow out the struggling candle, Brett held her back.

"No… check out the stubbornness of that one little flame… it'd be cruel to blow it out. Just let it burn."

Nicky looked up at Brett in surprise and he smiled self-deprecatingly, "I'm allowed to have layers. Now turn around and watch that flame, you might _learn_ something."

With a bemused smile, Nicky turned around and did as she had been told.

-xxx-

18 November 2002

**New York City, New York**

Nicky lay in bed next to Zorn and stared up at the ceiling in despair. It had been 34 days since her interrogation at Langley had ended.

_Why was it that no matter what she did, she felt empty? Like her body was a flesh and bone vessel that contained nothing but a deep, dark void. Why couldn't she hold onto any other emotion? Not sadness, not anger, not happiness… nothing. Would she ever feel anything again? Ever feel anything but numbness? What was Jason doing right now? _

Nicky frowned at the ceiling and reached down onto the bedspread for her pack of smokes. She slammed the door on any thoughts of Jason by imagining his face and slamming a huge cast-iron vault door on it. Danny snuggled up to her, kissing her neck as Nicky calmly lit her Marlboro Light and blew the smoke out. Danny pulled away, pushing himself up on his arm, he watched her warily.

"We've started a new program called Blackbriar in conjunction with the DOD... It's basically an upgrade of the Treadstone program and I helped Abbot design it."

Nicky continued to smoke her cigarette, listening intently.

_When had she ceased to have a visceral reaction to the word 'Treadstone'?_

Danny quashed the feeling of disappointment at her lack of a reaction.

"The investigation into what happened with Jason Bourne has ended. So far there's been no sign of him. The guy's probably living in some shit-hole in the 3rd world by now, if he's still alive." Danny reached out to touch her, then withdrew his hand before he acted out his urge. Nicky did not look receptive to unauthorised touching.

He wet his lips nervously, and continued talking, "_Thank God_ we've closed that chapter; the paperwork on the fallout was getting out of control."

Nicky's insides clenched with indignation.

_How dare this limp noodle dismiss Jason, and Conklin and the Professor and basically dismiss three years of her life like that?_

"Now that we can focus on the new program, I'm hoping to get a couple more promotions down my belt. I'm permanently based in the States now and I think it's as good a time as any to start a lasting relationship, maybe get married to someone who can handle being Mrs. Right-Hand of the new CIA Black Ops programme."

Nicky picked up on the hopeful tone of his voice and turned to look at him with unreadable eyes.

_She was fucking freaking him out! She had been for awhile now._

Danny fought the urge to gulp audibly.

_Okay Zorn it's now or never._

"Nicky, you know how much I respect and care about you… I've always loved you and I know you're going through a rough time right now, but I'm here for you. And I'm willing to wait for you to be… ready."

Nicky sneered as she blew out one last stream of smoke before stubbing her cigarette out in the empty bottle of wine on the bedside table.

"Dead people don't love Zorn. They don't feel anything."

Danny frowned, sitting up and reaching for her hands, "We're alive though, Nicky. We're fucking _young_ and _alive_. And we can have it all."

"What? The great political career in Washington and the white picket fence in the suburbs?" Nicky mocked softly.

"Fuck yeah, it's the American Dream baby, there's never been a better time to be in the security biz. And hey we're the only two to make it out of Treadstone alive! That's-"

"Delusional."

Danny frowned at her with incredulity.

"Nicky-"

She rolled her eyes and cut him off, "You're _in denial_ Zorn. It's CIA black ops; _no one_ here gets out alive."

She pulled her hands out of his, a pitying look on her face. Danny just stared at her in shock.

Nicky shrugged then pulled the covers off her lap. Feet touching the cream Ikea rug, she walked over to the chair where Danny had carefully folded her jeans and grey cashmere sweater.

Shaking out the jeans she sat on the chair and worked them up her legs.

Danny frowned, heart racing as all the anger he had been keeping suppressed sprang to the surface.

"Is this about your two week stay in Langley or about Bourne?"

Nicky spared him an indulgent glance before reverting her attention to buttoning her jeans.

"Why would it be about _Bourne_?"

Danny watched her as she stood up and hooked her bra on, sliding the straps up her shoulders. He thought back to the way she had been behaving; recklessly and without consideration for anyone's feelings. The warm brown eyes devoid of any soft emotion whatsoever, always alternating from blank, to cold.

"You've been acting like a rebel without a cause. You haven't been yourself since you got back from Paris. Nicky, you close your eyes when we make love, you don't let me make a sound or kiss you just for the sake of kissing you."

Her mouth twisted in a cynical grimace.

Danny obstinately continued talking, "Come on Parsons, you've been acting like someone who's lost somebody they loved. So, it's gotta be Bourne."

His voice got loud and desperate at the former spy's name, finally putting into words the fear that had been hounding him since she had first turned her attentions to him nine days ago.

Nicky sneered again, "Maybe it's Conklin I loved."

Danny froze as she turned away from him and slipped on gray kidskin designer boots.

Without thinking, he rose from the bed and padded over to her, angrily grabbing her arm. She shrugged his hand off like it was an irritating fly, swivelling round to face him with flinty eyes.

"Was it?"

"Was it what?"

"Was it Conklin? Were you and Conklin having an affair?"

Her lips twisted humourlessly, "It's none of your business."

Danny felt his chest expand with emotion, "I love you so your feelings_ are_ my business."

She rolled her eyes, "Oh my God."

Danny's eyes were beseeching, "All I want is for you to be happy."

Nicky flinched; Jason Bourne had said the exact same thing to her on a river bank outside of Rémy two years ago. The night he had snuck in her apartment, gotten her to drive them out of Paris, and then convinced her to begin training with him.

_Yeah and look at how well that turned out. _

Danny watched her closely, noting the softening of her features as a good sign.

Her eyes flicked up to him and she let out a sigh before she stepped closer to him, raising her arms and locking them loosely around his neck, "Save your cheesy rom-com lines for the movies. And the only thing that would make me _happy_ …is for you to _get off my back_."

Then she pulled away from him, striding out of his bedroom and a few seconds later, out of his front door. Danny remained rooted to the spot, wondering what the hell had happened to Nicky Parsons.

-xx-

Nicky walked all the way from Danny Zorn's apartment in the Meatpacking District to Central Park. Sitting down tiredly on a vacant bench she watched a group of kids playing catch with a Golden Labrador retriever. The youngest child there could not be more than three years old, he had dark hair and cute rounded cheeks that reminded her of Tristan. She felt a cold stone of guilt and regret settle in her chest.

_How was she ever going to face him when she had been complicit in trying to kill his father? How could she face him when she was so numb inside? Unable to feel any real human emotion, was she still even capable of feeling love for her son?_

She watched the kids play until their mothers took them and the dog home. The sun set in the distance, blanketing the park with long shadows. Nicky felt herself relax, feeling more at home in the encroaching darkness than she had in the bright and harsh light of day.

_So Treadstone was getting an upgrade. _

Nicky shrugged to herself.

_Why did she care? She'd left the Agency. She was done. She was supposed to be moving on with her life now. Becoming whatever it is that she was supposed to become now that the old Nicky Parsons was dead, right?_

If only she knew who that was. Her outward behaviour may have changed completely but she was a broken record on the inside.

_Who was she, other than a CIA Black-Ops officer that had personally facilitated in the government sanctioned murder of over a hundred people? What could she possibly go and do now other than what she had been officially and unofficially trained to do? _

It was obvious Danny Zorn had lied when he said the hunt for Jason Bourne was over. It couldn't be. It could never be over, not completely. He had ruined billions of dollars worth of US government money and a number of egos in the industry. They would never just let him be, never just forget about him.

"_**It's CIA black ops; no one here gets out alive."**_

She'd said that to Zorn and she had meant it.

_So where did that leave her? If she wanted to live she had to walk away completely, and that meant from Zorn as well. _

Something akin to stubbornness reared its head inside her. If she cut ties with Zorn altogether there would really be nothing connecting her to her life in Paris. Nicky had studied psychology, she knew half the reason she had given in to her former co-worker's amorous demands was because it was still a link to her old life. It was still a link to Jason Bourne and a great big middle finger to whatever they had shared.

_Fuck, if Conklin had been alive, she probably would have shacked up with him instead. _

Nicky quashed the uneasy feeling that knowledge gave her.

She was moving on. She had to. So she'd start with some good old fashioned penance. Repent for her past sins. Maybe it was time she stopped the party life and started to find some peace. She had seen a homeless shelter on her way here. Maybe she could do some honest-to-God work like volunteer there. Yes, that was a good place to start. The old Nicky had never done something like that, neither had the UES spoilt brat party girl, new Nicky.

With a bone-weary sigh, she rose from the bench and walked to the nearest side-walk to hail a cab. Change would start tomorrow, in the meantime, she needed a drink… or ten.


	15. Chapter 15 Almost Lover

A/N: Upon careful freeze framing and re-watching of the Trilogy two weeks ago I noticed that Nicky's file in** Ultimatum** claims she's got all kinds of weapons and martial arts training. It also says she is a "Junior Field Officer" so I shall take that to mean at some point she changes career paths. I just thought I'd remind the readers out there so it doesn't seem like I've gone down more of a fantastic (in the literal sense of the word) flight of fancy than normal. It's my bday on Friday so I thought it was only fair to double update.

Special thanks for the double update should go to **AreyouSirius-questionmark** and **Frust Sheep**. With all the balls I've got in the air, web-life and real-life wise, you two got me to drop everything and prioritise this!

Oh and I've never been to NYC I used my working knowledge from Sex and the City and Gossip Girl episodes and Google Maps... so any New Yorkers out there reading this feel free to drop me a line about any geographical improbabilities.

* * *

**The Untold Story – Part Two**

**Chapter 3 – Learning to Crawl**

_I cannot go to the ocean_

_I cannot drive the streets at night_

_I cannot wake up in the morning_

_Without you on my mind_

_So you're gone and I'm haunted_

_And I bet you are just fine_

_Did I make it that easy_

_To walk right in and out of my life?_

_Goodbye, my almost lover_

_Goodbye, my hopeless dream_

_I'm trying not to think about you_

_Can't you just let me be?_

_So long, my luckless romance_

_My back is turned on you_

_I should've known you'd bring me heartache_

_Almost lovers always do_

- **Almost Lover**, A Fine Frenzy

* * *

25 December 2002

**110****th**** Street, Central Harlem, Manhattan, NY**

The soup kitchen was packed with volunteers and the homeless. Their collective body heat made it feel like a hot summer day in the Amazon.

Nicky poured another pan full of boiled potatoes onto a metal baking tray and shoved it into the oven with an aggressive push. Wiping the stray strands of hair that had slipped out of her hair net and were sticking to her temples, with the back of her hand she set the oven timer. She turned just in time to collide with Ward Abbot.

"Forgive me, I wasn't expecting you to turn around so fast."

"Mr. Abbot."

"May we speak in private momentarily?"

Nicky looked around the bustling room and caught the floor manager's eye, she signalled that she was going out for a smoke break and he nodded curtly in acknowledgment. She gestured towards the exit sign and led the way as Ward Abbot followed closely behind her.

Nicky bit her lip as she freed the 4-inch butterfly knife she kept in her front jean pocket. She pushed open the door that led out into the alley behind the soup kitchen and let it swing back toward Abbot. He caught the door deftly before it hit him in the face, then let it swoosh shut behind him.

Nicky's boot-clad feet crunched in the snow as she turned around to face him, shaking a cigarette out of the pack and keeping her fingers wrapped around the box as she lit it with her left hand. There was enough of a distance between them for her to be able to defend herself with the knife without unnecessarily exposing herself to sniper-fire. Exhaling calmly she fixed attentive brown eyes on the older man.

"You've got as long as this smoke lasts Mr. Abbot, as you saw, we're really busy in there."

Ward smiled at her like he was privy to a secret joke, taking his un-gloved hands out of his coat pockets.

"It's a very honourable thing you're doing, volunteering here and at the shelter down the street Nicolette. I hear you are also working at the Times Square 'Red Lobster', Friday and Saturday nights."

Nicky kept the expression on her face open as she processed what Ward wasn't saying out loud, they had been keeping tabs on her, probably had her under round the clock surveillance.

"I thought the service industry was as good a place to start while I figured out what I wanted to do with my life."

"Yes, yes, of course." Ward spread his palms out in the universal gesture of trust.

Nicky pretended not to notice as she took another drag of her cigarette, forcing herself to appear relaxed while her heart beat a staccato rhythm that would make a tap dancer jealous.

"I just don't understand why someone who had such a promising career and future with us would give it up at the first sign of trouble. You have a degree in Communication and Information Technology and a Masters in Behavioural Psychology. An eidetic memory, martial arts and weapons training-"

"I don't need you to tell me what my qualifications are, I was there when I got them remember?"

Ward Abbott smiled inwardly at the show of spirit. Intelligence reports and Danny Zorn had led him to believe she was irrevocably broken. The slender woman, with purple and brown hair standing in front of him proved those assessments to be inaccurate.

"Okay Nicolette, cutting the bullshit, you're an incredible asset to the Agency and I came here to personally ask you to come back and work for us."

Nicky's eyes widened in feigned surprise, "Why would I do that?"

"Because, quite frankly, your talents are wasted on anything as _pedestrian_ as 'Red Lobster' and homeless shelters when you could be helping people on a grander… _global_ scale. And should you come back and work for us, I can personally guarantee you that your loyalty will never be doubted again."

"I thought Treadstone was closed."

"It was, this is something bigger and better. Something to which you can bring in all the expertise and skill-sets you learned in Paris. You can ameliorate the talents you showed in Paris, build on it. Or you can choose to do something completely different."

Nicky exhaled one last stream of smoke then tossed the cigarette butt over her shoulder.

"My break's over Mr. Abbot."

She pushed past him and banged on the door in a quick succession of raps. Turning to face him she gave him an apologetic shrug as somebody pushed the door open. She slid into the kitchen, and stood in the doorway, Ward Abbot watched her intently.

"Best of luck with your new project Sir, I'm- I just can't afford to have another_ 'sign of trouble' _like Paris or what happened to me in Virginia, happen again. Happy Thanksgiving." The door swooshed shut as she let it go, effectively cutting off whatever he was going to say in response.

Nicky slid her butterfly knife back into her front pocket, the corners of her mouth turning up slightly with grim pleasure. They were both still alive, which meant the conversation had gone extremely well. Aware of the fact that Abbot probably had a spy in this very kitchen Nicky squared her shoulders and got back to work.

-XX-

25 December 2002

**Bruges, Belgium**

Jason sat in his hotel room and ate Christmas dinner with depressing silence as his companion.

He had snuck out of the States on a container ship headed for Marseille, easily getting lost in the crowds on the port when the ship had docked.

He had steadily made his way to Belgium, his progress slowed down by a number of stops in towns that rang some sort of distant bell of memory.

The feeling of remembered good-times had drawn him to Bruges like a moth to a flame, but when he had arrived he could not shake the feeling that whatever it was that had made the city attractive was gone. So Jason had booked a room in a small hotel that was less likely to run Interpol pictures but still tasteful enough not to house just anybody.

Like all the other things that came to him naturally, Jason felt Christmas was a time for family, joy and peace. The feeling would not go away, even if he could not picture the family that had instilled these values in him.

If he could not shake the feeling of what Christmas was supposed to be, Jason also could not shake the feeling that he had been trained by Treadstone not to value Christmas, as a holiday. He had been taught to value it as an opportunity to recharge assassin batteries and/or kill targets that_ did_ value the holiday.

Jason scowled as he felt one of his splitting headaches come on. The Englishman he had killed in France had mentioned that he got them too. What had Treadstone done to them?

He pushed his plate away in disgust, picking up the file he had compiled on Marie Kreutz. He was trying to figure out where she was most likely to be right now. While he studied the file, smiling despite himself at her Interpol picture, Jason resumed eating. It wasn't because he was hungry but his body needed the nutrients in order to function at optimum level. That knowledge was like an imperative command programmed into his sub-conscious, Jason found if he tried to override the compulsion, he became edgy, nervous and prone to violence.

When he was done eating, Jason covered the plate and cutlery, moving to the bed he sat down as he continued to study the information, memorising every little detail. As he set fire to the pages, watching the paper curl at the edges, then burn to nothing but a few pieces of ash, he remembered the sound of Marie's voice as she chattered incessantly during their escape from Venice.

It was only while he was brushing his teeth that Jason remembered her talk about the shop in Biarritz.

Well how 'bout that? A Christmas breakthrough. Jason instantly filed the colloquial he had subconsciously used. Maybe he was from the Mid-West originally? He shrugged mentally, pushing the thought to the back of his mind.

Biarritz.

That's where he was going to find her.

He smiled at his reflection. It was his first genuine smile since he'd said goodbye to Marie.

Now all he had to do was work his way over there in a way that would lose anybody tracking him. Get to Marie, and get her out of there. They could go and live in South Africa or Angola, safe haven for mercenaries the world over.

Jason rinsed the toothpaste out of his mouth and cleaned the sink of any traces of his DNA. Packing his toothbrush back in his toiletry bag which he stuffed back into his backpack, Jason pulled out his Glock pistol and his Sig Sauer. He spread some newspaper on the bed, then laid out the gun oil and the rag he was going to use to clean the guns. A jaunty Christmas tune in his head, Jason leaned back on the headboard and started to clean.

-xx-

25 December 2002

**UES, NYC**

Sitting in her father's car as it cruised down relatively empty but festive Park Avenue toward the Astor-Parsons town-house, Nicky let herself think about Ward Abbot's visit. It was either that or think about ice-skating in Munich with Jason and that was definitely not an option.

She played with her cell-phone, flipping it open and shut as she relived every moment of Ward Abbot's visit.

Ever since Danny Zorn had told her about "Blackbriar" she had tried to avoid thinking about it too much. She genuinely wanted to put the past behind her, cutting off her ties with Danny and embarking on her personal path of redemption. Just when she had begun to wake up in the morning without needing to drink half a bottle of vodka to face the day without Jason Bourne's face haunting her, Ward Abbot had turned up.

They wanted to give her a job working _for_ Blackbriar. Why? Were her skills that rare or was it fear on their part that she could turn around and destroy them? Not that she could. Oh wait there was that drive she'd copied and mailed to a non-descript mail-box in France, but Zorn and Abbot did not know about that. If they did she would have been dead by now.

Biting her lip, she traced the exact spot where Frank Castel had broken her wrist. Did Abbot know about that? Or was that a secret only Zorn, Conklin, Bourne, Nicky and Castel had shared? If so, then what was Abbot's angle?

The car pulled up to the town-house. Gerard was waiting on the stoop, a glass of mulled wine in hand, when it suddenly made sense.

Abbott needed her parents' money and support; he was using her to solicit Astor-Parsons political favor. She could just imagine Derek Parsons' words to Abbot after Nicky had started working at 'The Red Lobster'.

She stepped out of the car and accepted the wine Gerard offered her, smiling her gratitude as she walked into the foyer and started to climb the stairs to her room.

So Ward Abbot needed Nicky to make his political dreams come true. As did Zorn, to a less ambitious extent. What did Nicky need from them?

She stepped into her room and spied the boxes from Paris that remained unopened. Without thinking she pulled out her butterfly knife and plunged it into the first of the boxes. Setting her wine glass down on another carton, Nicky dragged the knife along the taped edges of the box until its contents were visible. Pulling out the first dress-bag she came across, she pulled the zipper open and held her breath as she spied the grey coat she had worn the day she'd given the Professor the kill order for Jason. Air hissed out of her lips in a shaky stream as she sank to her knees, clutching the coat in her hands as the room swam out of focus. She took deep gulping breaths and fought through the sense of vertigo.

Resolutely, she focused on the expensive grey wool and practically glared at the coat in her clenched fists.

_She had to do this._

Slowly, her vision cleared and her breathing steadied.

_She had to go back._

Nicky felt her spine stiffen and straighten as if of its own volition. Her purpose was suddenly very clear.

_She couldn't continue running away. Continue to pretend Paris hadn't happened. Pretend that she didn't know better. _

If Treadstone and Jason Bourne's return to Paris had opened Pandora's Box, then all that was left was hope. Nicky had been there in the beginning, well sort of, and she had to see this thing through, with some form of integrity. Zorn and Abbott were compromised, which left only Nicky. Even if Jason Bourne was alive and kicking, he had PTSD and selective amnesia, he was not a reliable authority. But she was.

Nicky had to do this, if she did not then that backup drive was useless. She looked at the coat still clutched in her hands. If she did not, then the Professor, Conklin, Jason… everything she had lost, everything she had been through was for nothing. She had to do this for Tristan. So that someday he would understand that his mother wasn't a monster. So she could look him in the eye without feeling guilty for her role in Jason's demise. So that she could make sense of the last three years.

Nicky let go of the coat, letting it fall to the floor then crawled over to her bedside table. She unearthed her Colt from the false bottom in the top drawer, and immediately felt calmer with the reassuring cold weight in her hand.

Shoving the drawer shut, she leaned against the table, as a hysterical giggle worked its way out of her throat.

It was only a matter of time before Ward or someone else acting as his agent approached her again, and when they did, Nicky was going to say yes.

She was done hiding.

-xxx-

30 December 2002

**Langley, Virginia**

Nicky sat in Ward Abbot's office and listened to Danny Zorn pitch the 'Blackbriar project' to her in a nervous flow of conversation.

Perched on the edge of Abbot's desk, he spoke rapidly with flushed cheeks. He was evidently finding it difficult to look at her directly, addressing a spot above her right shoulder.

"You won't be expected to deal with assets or anything until you're ready to. Nor will you be expected to be immersed in the complex aspects of the program for the first year or so. I can't promise you sunshine and puppies, it's a dirty business after all but we will do everything in our power to keep you safe."

Nicky tugged the new contract she was to sign closer and perused it, carefully tucking a wayward strand of her new blonde highlights behind her ear.

"I have one condition."

"Go ahead."

"No more personal questions on Treadstone or Paris, I gave you all the answers I had the last time I was here."

Danny blinked self-consciously as he nodded his reassurance, "Yes, of course. In fact, nobody's gonna know you worked for Treadstone except the three of us. As far as the Agency is concerned, the program never existed. About what happened after you came back, once again-"

Nicky cut him off, "I don't see anything here that indicates my resignation two months ago."

Ward Abbot, who was sitting behind an imposing desk, leaned forward, capturing Nicky's gaze with his eyes.

"I chose not to process the resignation until I was sure we couldn't get you to come back."

She bet he did. Breaking the eye-contact, Nicky pulled a pen out of her handbag and took a deep breath.

"Where do I sign?"

Danny abandoned his perch and leaned over her shoulder to pinpoint all the places on the contract that required her signature. When she was done, Nicky put the pen in her purse and setting the document on the desk, slid it towards Abbot.

"So what's next?"

Abbot's eyes gleamed with calculated thoughtfulness, "You pack your bags and leave tonight for Amsterdam. You get to keep your name this time and you're a student again, but you'll also be running protocols and studying trends. You will receive further and more detailed instructions during your flight."

Nicky gave a clipped nod, then rose from her seat, buttoning her black Armani suit and gracefully hitching her handbag strap on her shoulder. Abbot rose to meet her outstretched hand.

"Thank you, Sir." Nicky said in a steady voice, her handshake firm.

Ward Abbot covered their clasped hands with his other one, "No, thank you Nicolette, it will be different this time, I promise."

Nicky smiled politely as she extricated her hand, "It's Nicky, Sir, Nicolette sounds like a vapid woman from a Victorian novel."

Ward Abbot chuckled at this and nodded imperceptibly for Danny to escort her out.

As they exited the office, Danny turned to look at Nicky, holding her gaze for a split-second before turning it to the vast corridor that led to the elevators.

"You dyed your purple highlights blonde but also kept the brown."

"And the award for Stating the Obvious goes to Danny Zorn." Nicky muttered under her breath.

"I think it suits you better, it's kinda back to the old you. And I'm so glad you're part of the team again and I-"

Without breaking her stride, Nicky pinned flinty eyes on him, "What happened between you and I was a lapse in judgment on both our parts, you promised me yesterday that you wouldn't let it interfere with work. I hope you keep that promise."

Zorn flushed under her scrutiny, swallowing convulsively and nodding his head, "Y-y-yeah sure… of course."

"Awesome."

Danny threw her a surprised look as Nicky smiled at him with some of her old sass.

They approached the elevator which pinged open.

"Okay, so I'll see you in Amsterdam."

Nicky stepped into the empty elevator and faced him, "Don't take this the wrong way Danny, but I really hope not."

The doors slid shut leaving a shocked Danny staring at the doors.

-xx-

Friday, 28 March 2003

**The Hudson River, New York**

Nicky stood on the banks of the Hudson and watched the turgid grey waters beneath her.

When the news of her parents' fatal car accident had reached her last week she had been about to embark on a university trip to Paris. It would have been her first time back in France since the Treadstone project had gone up in flames. Excusing herself from the trip, she had flown to New York, buried her parents, locked up the town house, instructed the lawyers to finalise the paperwork and send it to her brother in Iraq, without shedding a single tear in the process.

Nicky remembered her birthday three years ago, the night her world had changed forever, the night Tristan had been conceived and she could not shake the feeling that she had imagined it all.

She had been so young, so naïve, so hopeful back then. Now she stood on this bridge without parents, without Jason, without anything that she had had before. All she had was Blackbriar, if she was paranoid enough she could imagine that her parents' death was part of some elaborate CIA plan, but she wasn't that crazy, _yet_.

Staring at the water, Nicky wondered what kind of a person was unable to mourn the death of her parents. What kind of person went six months without making any contact with her own son, for Chrissakes?

What kind of a person was so afraid of human contact and emotions she could not control that she would willingly go back to working for the upgraded version of a government assassination programme? Had she lied to herself, twisted the facts around to think that she was one of the good guys?

Her cellphone began to vibrate insistently in her pocket, snapping her out of her reverie.

"Hello?"

"Juliet, my sweet!"

Lee, calling from an unsecured line. It must be bad.

"What's wrong! What's happened?"

"Nothin' an' everythin' baby. See, an evil alien pod seems to have taken over my darlin' Juliet's psyche. The girl I knew, would never display such terrible manners as to not call or enquire 'bout my health or the health of anyone else that is close to me." Lee spoke angrily, his Southern drawl more pronounced.

Nicky's hand tightened on the phone, "But you're okay though?"

"Yeah we're okay. You on the other hand that's a different matter."

"Why does your caller ID have a New York number on it?"

"Cause we're in town baby."

Nicky felt her heart plummet, "You're in Manhattan! _All_ of you!"

"Yeah, kiddo, an' we ain't leavin' til you come an' see us."

"Let me call you back." Nicky said before hanging up the phone and casting wild eyes around the bridge. Biting her lip, she hurried off the bridge and down a familiar alley so she could get to a payphone.

She dialled the number Lee had called her from, offering up silent pleas to God that nobody had tapped her phone. What the fuck was she smoking? This was Blackbriar, of course they'd tapped it. She was gonna kill Lee.

"Yellow!"

"Oh My God, your stupid carelessness is unfuckingbelievable! Meet me outside our favourite frozen yoghurt stand on Fifth Avenue in fifteen minutes. Come alone for fuck's sakes."

-xxx-

**Fifth Avenue/82****nd**** Street, The Metropolitan Museum, New York City**

"Now Nicky baby, there ain't nothin' you can say to me that's gonna make me think this is a bad idea."

"You'll get yourself killed."

"You've gotta see your son an' you've gotta talk to me."

"You're putting everything in jeopardy by being here Lee."

"No, _you're_ puttin' everythin' in jeopardy by bein' a frigid bitch from Hell. You barely spoke to me at your parents' funeral."

"There were five hundred people at the funeral and I was trying to avoid the press cause I'm a fucking spy, and my brother was away in fucking Iraq on a covert mission, what the fuck was I supposed to do?"

"Act like a human bein' an' speak to your best friend. It's more suspicious if you don't."

Nicky rolled her eyes as Lee grabbed her hand and started to navigate them through the traffic on the busy road.

"Where are we going?"

"My hotel, I've got Tristan an' Troy there."

"Lee, this is dangerous and just stupid."

"What's stupid is you leavin' Troy a cryptic message an' me havin' to read 'bout it through NSA channels that the shit hit the fan in Paris. Why didn't you tell me your black ops guy not only went MIA but cuckoo, came back an' killed everybody but you, before going off the grid?"

"He's not off the grid, he's dead." Nicky corrected him flatly.

"Great, even better… so why haven't you said more than ten words to me in the last 6 months?"

"I was having a hard time."

"Yeah I heard all 'bout your rebellion last year."

Nicky threw him a questioning look.

"Mimi Astor-Parsons. She told me all about it when I called at Thanksgivin' an' she said you were volunteerin' in a _soup-kitchen_ an' on the fourth leg of your five leg descent into insanity."

They entered the lobby of the Plaza Hotel and Lee gentled his grip on her hand, leading her into the elevator. He swiped his penthouse keycard.

They silently threw each other dirty looks until they got to Lee's penthouse. Lee pushed the door open and ushered her in.

Nicky froze on the spot, too afraid to go in and face her son, then Lee gave her a not-so-gentle nudge and she stumbled into the room. There was no one there; Nicky looked around fearfully, her eyes meeting Lee's.

"Of course I didn't brin' them here, I just wanted to talk to you."

Nicky felt her knees go weak in a combination of relief and disappointment, she sank into the nearest chair and glared mutely at Lee. He was towering over her, hands on hips, green eyes dark and stormy in a combination of anger, exasperation and pity.

"You've lost your way darlin', an' you're losing yourself."

Nicky shook her head, raising shaky hands to cover her ears and block out his words.

"You've gotta get a grip. We need you whole an' strong."

He pulled her hands away from her ears and crouched down in front of her.

"I want you to come out an' see us in July, but I need you to start acting like a human being again so that you don't draw unwanted attention."

"I can't cry." Nicky said dumbly.

Lee's features softened, "Of course you can't darlin' there's only so much a body can take. You'll cry when the time is right."

"Lee… I need help."

"You need a kick up the butt, beautiful, an' I'm here to give it to you. You were partyin' with the likes of that depraved sonofabitch John Gilbert. Really? that family caused Grandma Margaret nothin' but grief! You were just fixin' for a fight weren't you?"

Nicky flushed guiltily.

"An' those spoilt entitled Vanderbilt boys that give all of us old money kids a bad name. _Really_?"

Nicky wanted to bark out a quick retort but found herself at a loss for words. Lee sighed in exasperation.

"You got any friends in Amsterdam?"

Nicky bit her lip and shook her head.

"Why the fuck not?"

Nicky shrugged helplessly.

Lee ran a hand through his short blonde hair, "Alright, first thing you do when you get back is _make_ some acquaintances. Smoke some _pot_, see some hookers in the Red Light District, appreciate some fuckin' art, got it?"

Despite her desire to disagree, Nicky nodded mutely in agreement.

Lee shook his head in bemusement, solemnly staring into her brown eyes.

"An' baby if you're gonna have some kinda meltdown at least have the decency to be whorin' 'bout town with Eminem or Ja-Rule or Bubba Sparxx or somebody cool."

The corners of her mouth lifted, "None of them live in New York."

"So _move_, you're rich."

Nicky burst out laughing at that, covering her face in her hands as she felt something inside her that had tightened and hardened into an immovable rock over the last six months, crumble a little.

Lee wrapped his arms around her and held her close as her laugh bordered on hysteria. Abruptly she stopped and wrapped her arms around Lee's neck. The petrified mass in her chest dissolved some more, and she took what felt like her first unobstructed breath in a long time.

"Thank God you're here Lee."

His hands caressed her back soothingly, "I know darlin', believe me I know. I would've come sooner, but I just couldn't get away."

Nicky pulled away and gave him a devastated look, "So how is he?"

"He's gonna be a whole lot better once he sees you in a couple months. Hang on a sec, I brought you some pictures."

Nicky watched Lee rise and hurry off to the bedroom with something akin to elation and anticipation bubbling up inside of her.

Lee returned, handing Nicky a picture of a healthy and happy two-year old boy dressed in a sailor suit. Her heart contracted then expanded.

"Oh God, Troy's gonna turn my son into a flaming fairy."

"He's only two, it's still cute."

"And a little bit camp."

Lee shrugged, "Okay maybe a little bit camp."

Nicky grinned up at Lee, before flipping to the next picture, where Tristan was wearing the same outfit but smiling, his cheeks dimpling adorably. Her smile grew so wide she thought her cheeks would split.

"Oh My God, he's the handsomest baby, ever." She breathed.

Lee crouched down and rested his arm on her lap and peered proudly at the picture, "Well that goes without saying, Happy Birthday Baby."

Nicky felt a light chuckle bubble up in her chest and for the first time since she'd left Paris last year, she felt like everything was going to be alright.


End file.
